


Caged Bird

by leighbird



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Teen Titans (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Insomnia, Minor Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Other, Panic Attacks, Past Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson, Past Dick Grayson/Wally West, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Torture, batfam, copycat Jokers, perspective changes, ships are only referenced not a part of story, some goons get handsy, timkon shows up for one chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:14:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 33,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24157957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leighbird/pseuds/leighbird
Summary: Underestimations can be dangerous, as Dick Grayson finds out the hard way. What was supposed to be a simple mission turns into a search for a brother and a fight against inner demons.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Wally West, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne
Comments: 17
Kudos: 187





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing a batfam (or any dc) fic! The intention was for this to be a self-indulgent torture one shot, but 20k+ words later, it got a little out of hand. It's also been years since I've written a fic at all. 
> 
> The perspective changes between Dick, Tim, Jason, Damian, and Bruce. I put who you're reading at the top of each section! Most chapters have 2 sections.
> 
> Just an honest heads up: I'm not the most knowledgable about the DC universe, but I love these characters and it was fun getting to explore new perspectives! Please let me know what you think! xoGhoul

DICK

Quiet nights were the worst. There weren’t  _ quiet _ nights in Gotham, just suspicious ones. And now wasn’t the time Dick Grayson wanted to deal with suspicious nights. It wasn’t uncommon for Bruce to summon him back home for “an extra pair of eyes” on a case. It  _ was _ unusual, however, for Bruce to actually say the words “I need help”--which is exactly what he had done. 

He hadn’t even given Dick the full rundown to send shivers down his spine. Batman directly asking for help was enough to unsettle him. 

“Copycats.” Bruce had grumbled to his team, throwing pictures and news articles across the hub.

“Copycats,” Jason repeated tauntingly, rolling his eyes. 

“Always overcompensating in order to somehow  _ prove _ themselves to an uninterested mastermind,” Damian sneered. 

“And these are going to be some of the  _ worst _ fucking nutjobs we’ve seen,” Dick rubbed his temple and squeezed his eyes shut. Joker wannabes--they came around every once in a while but were usually just trying to get some media attention. It was the ones who decided to echo his personal vendetta against Batman that were the bad ones. 

Damian had been right. Though there was no uninterested original for this crew to prove themselves to, goons like these didn’t need a Joker to smile at them for approval. They wanted blood--bat blood--and wouldn’t stop terrorizing citizens until they had it.

So there was Dick, decked up in full Nightwing gear, sitting on the edge of Gotham City Bank, waiting for some assholes in white face paint and poorly applied lipstick to live up to their threat of robbing it on that night. That quiet, suspicious night.

“ _ Nothing on the North side _ ,” Robin’s voice suddenly pierced through the comm.

“ _ Same from South, _ ” Red Robin replied. “ _ Could they be moving in from underground? _ ”

“ _ No fuckin’ way _ ,” Red Hood scoffed. “ _ You think these amateurs could pull something like  _ that  _ off? _ ”

“ _ We’ve seen it before _ ,” Red Robin mumbled back.

“ _ Stay focused _ ,” Batman’s voice was low and warning. The silence returned again.

Dick leaned back against the building, shutting his eyes momentarily. He really hoped these jokers were just going to rob the bank tonight. Sure, they’d promised it to be “explosive”, but what was another bomb in Gotham? That was just another Thursday night.

“ _ Anything from the front, Nightwing? _ ” Batman’s voice made Dick snap his eyes open.

“Not yet,” he replied. “I agree with Red, maybe there’s-- wait,” Dick leaned forward, seeing something moving around the block. “Trashy green wig, on my one.”

“ _ None of us can see you, asshole, give us a direction _ ,” Hood groaned.

“ _ 11th street, dumbass _ ,” Red retorted.

“ _ Nightwing, update _ ,” Batman cut through.

Dick scrunched his eyes and ran scans over the movement. “Seven of them are moving in towards the bank. From the way they’re checking their backs, probably another group waiting around the corner to keep off attackers.”

“ _ Damn, that sucks, _ ” Hood scoffed.

“ _ Be ready _ ,” Batman came over the comms as the sound of feet running across the street took Dick’s attention. “ _ We need to corner them inside. Move in- _ ”

“ _ Father, wait, _ ” Robin cut him off. “ _ Another team, North side. Five men, heavily armed. _ ”

“ _ Double that, South side, _ ” Red sounded off.

“ _ You’ll never guess what just popped out of the drainage _ ,” Hood huffed. “ _ I owe you, T _ .”

“No way they need that many men to rob and blow up the bank,” Dick mumbled to himself. “What are they planning?” 

Leaping off the ledge and behind one of the front pillars, he ignored Batman’s order to stay back.

“I’m not going to  _ engage _ ,” he whispered back. “I’m just getting a better look. Chill out.”

“ _ Ooo he just told you to chill, old man, _ ” Hood snickered.

“ _ Mind your stance, _ ” Batman scolded. “ _ Nightwing, stay out of sight. Keep us posted. We’ll meet you in the bank. _ ”

Dick crouched behind the pillar. He listened as the goons started to climb the stairs. It was mostly overlapping mumbling. Talk of having the money to do whatever they pleased. It didn’t interest him. None of them spoke of anything important. So, he just watched, and when the last of the front crew entered the bank, he signaled for the others to enter.

“ _ Copy that. Meet us inside _ ,” Batman responded before the sound of grunts and capes flapping in the wind came over the comms. 

“I’ll be in in a minute,” Dick cocked his head to the side and focused his vision to the edge of the block where the first group had been looking back. “I think I can get a visual on the others.”

Leaving his hiding spot, Dick crouched low and stayed close to the bank wall until he could leap onto the balcony of the next building, climbing to the roof. 

“ _ Negative, Nightwing. Don’t proceed without backup _ ,” Batman’s voice was gruff, the faint echo of his “I need your help” from two days prior ringing in Dick’s head.

Shaking the warning from Batman and foreboding feeling from his mind, he continued to sneak closer to the end of the block. “Keep the team together in the bank. You’ll need the numbers if the other teams move in. Remember, this is supposed to be  _ explosive. _ ”

If Dick had a dime for every time he’d heard  _ that _ sigh from Bruce, he’d be almost as rich as him. “ _ Fine, but proceed with caution. Joker copies or not, they want  _ me.”

Dick rolled his eyes and leaped onto the last roof. Peering over the ledge, there was another team casually leaning against the alley walls, staying out of the lights and waiting.

He crouched behind the ledge and tried to hear what they were saying but was too far away. “I’m gonna try to get closer. Hear what they’re talking about.”

The lack of response told Dick the others were too close to the bank team, though he could hear the low grunt Bruce made through the comms in protest. But no confirmed order meant Dick could go on without technically disobeying. He was, in fact, an adult who could make his own decisions.

Flipping over the edge, Dick landed softly on the fire escape and quietly worked his way closer.

“You think the Bats will show?” one of the goons in a clown mask asked.

“Oh, of fucking course,” another huffed--hair clearly held in place with cheap green hairspray. “That was the whole point of  _ publicly _ announcing our plan. The Bats can’t  _ not _ show. Makes ‘em look bad if we rob the fucking bank.”

Dick narrowed his eyebrows. He was too close to them to radio over that it was a trap. He could only hope the others could hear the conversation from where he was, but it didn’t seem likely given how quietly they were speaking.

Against his better judgment, Dick inched across the landing he was on in hopes of being able to pick up their chatter on the comms. The old fire escape was creaky, but he’d practically mastered softly bounding from one side to the other at this point in his life. It was second nature. 

It seemed to be working this time, too. Until his foot came crashing through a loose railing he hadn’t noticed in the dark.

His entire body fell through, and he hit the side of the next floor’s landing, flipping over and getting his leg stuck in the grate. As his weight continued to pull him upside down, the snap of his ankle caught him off guard and he gasped, “Fuck!”

“ _ Nightwing? _ ”

“Nightwing,” Green Hairspray grinned. Three of the other goons shined their flashlights in his direction, illuminating the upside down vigilante. “What a surprise! So glad you could  _ drop  _ by!”

The others snickered.

Leaning into a fake flower on his jacket, Green Hairspray radioed to someone else, “Found us a Bat. Blow the others up!”

“ _ Red Hood, get to Nightwing! _ ” Batman yelled in between what sounded like punches over the comms.

“ _ On it! Oh, shi- _ ” Hood’s curse was cut off by radio static.

Dick pulled himself up as the gang circled in closer to him, trying to release his foot. He had to get to the others, get them out of there. It had definitely been a trap, but Dick couldn’t figure out how these copycats had known all of them would be there. Just as he released his foot, a baseball bat came crashing down on his hand that held him up, making him fall to the ground. Rolling onto his side, Dick went to leap to his feet, but another blow caught him in the back. 

“I don’t think so, blue bird!”

“Can’t lose all of you to the bank!”

“Batman, get out of there!” Dick yelled, breathless. “Get them out!” He pressed the earpiece closer and continued to try pushing himself off the ground, but each time he managed to shoulder off one clown, another landed a punch or knocked him back down. “Bat-” He heard the loud  _ thunk! _ before he registered the pain.

His vision went blurry as a muffled  _ boom _ shook the buildings. The bank went up in flames before him and started collapsing in on itself. Dick couldn’t hear anyone over the comms. He tried calling out, “Hood? Robin? Red?” but he wasn’t even sure he was making a sound. 

Dick felt himself being turned over, but couldn’t get his bearings. He looked back at the building, feeling like he was being crushed by its weight. He choked back a sob when one of the goons grabbed his ankles and started dragging. 

His vision was getting blurrier, darker around the edges, and finally faded to black before the realization he’d just gotten his family killed dawned on him.


	2. Chapter 2

JASON

“Hood! Red Hood!” Whoever was bitching at him  _ really _ needed to fuck off, Jason thought. His head was pounding and his throat was dry. He felt confused, not sure if he’d gotten plastered and somehow landed in the middle of a fight or maybe a mission.

“ _ Jason _ !” the voice hissed, then a hand smacked his face repeatedly, making his brain rattle around even more.

“Jesus  _ fucking _ Christ, T, my head,” Jason lazily batted Tim’s hand away from his face. “If I didn’t know what dying felt like, I might think I  _ was _ dead,  _ fuck _ .”

He squeezed his eyes shut, then hesitantly opened one to see that his helmet had been taken off. Tim rolled back on his feet and fell onto his butt in the dust; he huffed.

“What’d I miss?” he asked, relaxing his face and trying to sit up. His head rushed, the world spun. “Oof, those clowns sure did pack a punch, huh?”

Tim’s leg wouldn’t stop bouncing and he wouldn’t look at him. Jason raised an eyebrow and smacked Tim’s shaking leg. “Dude, where’s everyone else? I was on my way to assist Wing when…” Jason trailed off, trying to piece together the scene around him. His head hurt so bad, but things were becoming clearer.

It was  _ just _ Tim and him hidden in the alley behind the bank--or where the bank used to be. He remembered seeing the two thugs running in with explosives as he was on his way to Dick, then someone bashed him in the back of the head when he wasn’t paying attention. He was conscious the moment before the bomb went off, Bruce’s arms wrapped around his chest, pulling him out of the building. And then… then the explosion happened. Right in front of his face, and he’d blacked out.

“Fucking-  _ fuck _ !” Jason slammed his fists against the ground.

Tim didn’t even flinch when he grabbed the nearest piece of rubble and chucked it past his head. The sudden movement made his vision get foggy again, but he managed to level himself.

As his anger over his own trauma raged, Tim took a deep breath and started bouncing again. “J, listen--”

“What, Tim? What the fuck could you possibly say? Goddamn  _ clowns _ fucking triggered my damn messed up brain, god _ damn _ it!”

Tim took another deep breath in, getting ready to speak, and Jason knew whatever was going to come out was bad because his leg was  _ still _ bouncing.

“Could you fucking stop that? Jesus, you’re freaking me out with the bouncing all the damn time.”

Jason saw his entire body tense, using all his focus to keep himself from anxiously bouncing his leg. “We all managed to get out of the building before it blew. B and Robin are tailing the gang. They wanted to make sure you were okay, so I stayed behind, keeping an eye on you and the crime scene.”

It was easy for anyone close to Tim to recognize his “Robin Voice” he used to distance himself emotionally from a mission. Normally, it wouldn’t have bothered Jason, but he noticed his brother biting his bottom lip. In the slip of focus, his leg started bouncing again. He slammed his hand down on Tim’s knee, making him freeze instantly.

“Where’s D?” Even under his hand, Tim’s knee started to bounce, so he pushed down harder. “ _ Tim _ , where is Dick?”

Reaching up to take off his mask, Tim tilted his head back and sighed, his entire body shaking as if he were holding back a sob. “He was trying to get us a better visual on the backup gang. He fell somehow…” he got quiet and got a glossy look in his eyes, like he was starting to think.

“Hey, hey,” Jason snapped his fingers in front of him. “Focus.”

Tim nodded, started bouncing his leg again. Jason figured it was a lost cause and let his hand fall off his knee. “They took him,” he whispered.

“Excuse me?” he practically scoffed. “It sounded like you just said a bunch of crazy wannabe Jokers  _ took _ my brother.”

Not missing a beat, Tim glared at him. “ _ Our _ brother.”

“And you just  _ let _ them?!” Jason jumped up, ignoring the throbbing in his head.

“Oh,  _ sorry _ ! I was a little preoccupied with stopping some clowns trying to blow up the freaking bank!” Tim shot to his feet and stepped closer to Jason. “Last I checked, B ordered  _ you _ to help Nightwing. Or were you too busy getting beat in the head and blacking out to remember that?”

Jason sneered and pushed Tim against the wall, hand dangerously close to a vice grip on his throat. He could feel Tim’s heightened pulse under his fingers--not afraid just alert. Tim swallowed against his hand, raising his hands up in surrender.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it in…  _ that _ way.” 

Huffing, Jason loosened his grip and let his hand fall away.

“It wasn’t your fault, J.”

He took a step back, giving Tim room to lean off the wall.

“Wasn’t your fault either,” Jason grumbled. “But we need to catch up with B and the Demon. Catch up to  _ Dick _ .”

Tim offered him a very faint smile and his helmet. “No offense, I’m driving, though.”

DAMIAN

Later, Damian would have to tell his father that he simply could  _ not _ drive fast enough. At the given time, he didn’t want to distract him from going after his brother. His  _ idiot _ brother who somehow got caught by a handful of Joker wannabes. He would most certainly be holding that over his oldest brother’s head  _ when _ they got him back.  _ When _ .

Damian kept that word front and center in his mind. As soon as he let that  _ other _ word in, that two lettered ‘I’ word, he wouldn’t be able to stay on task. Grayson would be fine. He always was. Unless he started talking. Then things might go bad. His mouth tended to get him in the most trouble.

“ _ Batman, Robin, _ ” Red Robin’s voice came in over the comms, muffled slightly by static. “ _ Hood and I are closing in on your location. You still have eyes on the van? _ ”

“Negative, but Nightwing’s tracker is keeping us on course.” Damian ignored the tightness in his father’s voice. He kept his arms folded across his chest as Batman tapped the screen of the Batmobile, zooming in on the moving tracker. “I’m sending you our path, but I want you to detour. Keep an eye out for any other suspicious vehicles.”

“ _ Copy _ .”

“Why on Earth would you do that?” Damian finally spoke up. “If-  _ When _ we catch up, we’ll need all hands on deck to get Nightwing out of there.”

Not taking his eyes off the road, Batman’s hands slightly tightened around the steering wheel. “We need to make sure we’re not being misled.”

Turning in his seat, Damian narrowed his eyebrows. “You think they’ve switched the tracker.” He didn’t phrase it like a question, but Batman nodded his head anyways. “You really think these bastards-”

“Language,” he grumbled.

“-could think of something that smart?” he scoffed. “No way they’d know where it even is, let alone think to switch it to another vehicle to keep us off track.”

“We have to keep our options open, Robin.” 

Damian’s mouth started going before his brain could stop him from asking, “W- why would they even  _ want _ to mislead us? What would they possibly gain from that?”

For the first time since the explosion, Batman looked at his son. Even through the cowl, Damian could sense the answer in his father’s eyes. There were several other answers, but it was the worst one they were both thinking--if they weren’t following Grayson, that meant they wouldn’t get him back.

Damian sunk back into his seat, tightening his arms across his chest, trying to stop his mind from racing through all the bad scenarios and keep focused on staying ready to fight--to beat the shit out of the clowns who snatched his brother.

Just as Damian had started to tune out the voice in his head that told him they wouldn’t make it, the red cross they were following blinked and then disappeared altogether.

“Father!” he leaned forward and banged his hand against the screen. “Where’d it go? What-”

“ _ B! We’ve got thugs tailing us! _ ” Red Hood’s voice bombed through the comms. “ _ Shit, Red! Move! Move! Move! _ ”

“Red Hood, what’s your location?” Batman slammed on the brakes and skidded as he turned the Batmobile around.

“Wh- what are you doing? We’re going to lose Nightwing!” Damian screamed.

“ _ Oh, fuck! Oh- _ ” Hood’s voice was cut off by a crash. 

“Red Hood!”

The only immediate reply was a grunt then, “ _ Red? Red Robin, watch out! _ ”

With the press of a button, a new cross appeared on the screen and the car sped forward.

“No! Father, what are you doing?!” Impulsively, Damian reached across the console and went to yank the car back on track to the van. “We have to go after Dick!”

“Robin, no!” Batman pushed Damian back into his seat and continued towards Red Robin’s location. “We don’t even know for sure that  _ was _ Nightwing’s location,” he sounded frustrated--not quite angry, just upset. It wasn’t a tone most of them heard from Bruce often.

“Drake and Todd can handle themselves!”

“ _ What the fu- Oh God, no, no, no! Please, don’t! _ ”

“ _ Hood! Oh shit, I don’t  _ think _ so! Get away from hi- _ ”

Red Robin’s voice was replaced by a series of grunts and curses.

Sinking into his seat again, Damian didn’t argue as they sped towards the two. By the time they got there, the gang had cleared out. Red’s bike was crushed against a newspaper stand with debris scattered around it. Tim himself was lying face down on the other side of the street with Jason slowly crawling towards him, a large gash on his back dripping a trail of blood behind him.

“T, fuck,” he groaned, dropping only a couple feet from the other boy.

Damian ran to Jason’s side as his father ran to Tim’s. Kneeling down next to him, he tried to help his brother up, but Jason was too injured and too heavy for Damian to do much. 

“I’m fine, buddy,” Jason mumbled, pushing himself up. He let out a long groan and squeezed his eyes shut.

“What happened to you, Todd?”

Taking off his helmet, Jason huffed and gave his younger brother a look of shame. “Let’s just say me and  _ jokers _ don’t get along very well.”

A groaning Tim made the two of them look over to the side of the road.

Bruce guided him into a sitting position, and whispered something to him. Damian scrunched up his nose and scoffed. Tim looked over at them, and when his vision focused on Jason, a softness took over his expression.

“J, you okay?”

Jason rolled his eyes and started to stand up. Damian quickly reacted when he stumbled, but he wasn’t much help in doing anything but holding his arm while he steadied himself. They walked over as Bruce helped Tim to his feet.

“What happened?” Bruce had a way of making simple questions sound like orders.

“Crowbar,” Jason and Tim said in unison.

Jason dropped his gaze and rubbed the back of his head. “I-” he sighed. “I just- I- Sorry.”

Bruce laid a hand on his shoulder and gave him a look that probably meant “It’s not your fault” but Damian was too furious to really care. 

“We  _ need _ to catch up to that van!”

Bruce frowned.

“You lost it?” Tim sounded defeated.

“I believe it might have been a diversion anyways,” he paused. “We need to get you two back to the Cave. Get you patched up.”

“We  _ need _ to find Grayson!” Damian felt like he was the only one focused on getting their brother back. “He- they couldn’t have gotten too far!”

“Robin,” his father scolded. “We’ll get him back. But right now, we need to get these two out of the street.”

“Plus, we can only activate our other tracker from the Batcave,” Tim added, still a little breathless from the fight. 

“Or wait for him to activate one of his,” Jason said before groaning and leaning forward. 

If Bruce and Tim hadn’t reacted fast enough, he would have face planted into the pavement, once again proving Damian was useless in keeping his brothers safe.


	3. Chapter 3

DICK

There’d been voices earlier. Voices Dick hadn’t recognized. Ones talking about bats and fire and blood and casualties. He’d blacked out again before he heard anything else, but when he came to again, there weren’t any voices.

He was properly conscious this time--though his vision was still slightly blurry and he felt like his head had been split open--and the flood of memory rushed him. The bank, the Joker wannabes, the explosion.

He hadn’t warned the others in time. They’d been blown up and crushed.

In his moment of realization, Dick’s muscles clenched. He struggled against the bindings holding him down, feeling his anger growing along with devastation. They hadn’t made it, and he was being kept alive.

Still squirming under the ropes, Dick threw his head back and grunted. He wouldn’t let this be over. He’d get out and bust this gang for their crimes, for taking the last of his family from him.

But to do that, he needed to focus. Though rage flowed through him, Dick knew he needed to assess the situation. He took a deep breath and finally focused on his surroundings. 

He was seated on a metal chair, and when he tried to scoot it, it wouldn’t budge--welded to the floor. A setback, but not the end of the world. Chains wrapped around his arms, pulling them behind his back making his chest stick out. Limited mobility--they were locked to the back of the chair, but his hands were still free. Though pain shot up his left hand when he wiggled his fingers. It had been broken in the alley when he was first hit with the baseball bat.

Chains were also wrapped tightly around his ankles, securing them against the chair. His shoes had been taken, and once again when he tried moving, a pain in his right ankle warned him to stop. 

He was still masked, though he didn’t know how long that would last. The room was cold and empty, the floor was cement, but the room was too big and the lights too dim to see what was on the walls. From the way the rattle of his chains and grunts didn’t reverberate, he assumed they were at least somewhat soundproofed.

_ Great _ , Dick thought to himself.  _ Less amateur than we thought. _

It was too dark to make out the far edges of the room, but he thought he could see the outline of a door on the back left side of the room. What took most of his attention was the security camera in the front right corner and the sleeping goon underneath it.

They had him guarded, watching him. It would be difficult to escape, not impossible, but given his twisted ankle and broken fingers, it definitely wouldn’t be easy.

He’d have to make quick work of the locks--though they’d never been his strong suit with two good hands--and be able to either not wake the guard or headbutt him hard enough to knock him out if he came over.

_ Okay, okay, I can do this, _ Dick thought.  _ I’ve done it before. B trained me for this. Though, never with a broken hand. _

It took some effort to even turn his right hand around to find the lock, but once he had it in his hand, only then did it dawn on him his gloves and gauntlets had been taken, too. 

He jerked his shoulders back and huffed. His head wasn’t all there yet, and it was making everything difficult. Dick’s thoughts were still on his family, who he’d failed. Tim would’ve had a way to get out and knock out the cameras. Jason would’ve already punched five people. Damian would’ve already wiggled his way out and had the goons regretting the day they even heard about Robin. Bruce wouldn’t have been captured in the first place.

Just as he let out an angry grunt, the door behind him swung open. Dick quickly looked behind him and growled. 

The goon from the alley, Green Hairspray, sauntered in with a wicked smirk on his face, followed by another goon in a bad Halloween clown mask and someone who had  _ obviously _ spent too much time trying to find look-alike Joker wardrobe from thrift stores. Though it was a poor attempt to copy the original, Dick had to admit the way he walked into the room made him cringe.

The man hadn’t made an attempt to make his hair green or cover his skin in white paint, but the red smeared around his lips clung to his skin in a way that didn’t seem like lipstick.

Thrift Store Joker tilted his head to the side and smiled wide. “Nightwing! The one and only! How ya been?”

“Tied up, lately,” Dick grumbled. His mind was still swimming, trying to grab onto something whether it be anger or loss or even the pain from his hand and ankle, but without clear thoughts, he defaulted to what he did best: sass.

He laughed, not in a way that sounded like he was trying to copy Joker but something just as terribly cheesy. The laugh turned into a sigh, then he slapped his hand down on Dick’s shoulder, making him tense.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked, leaning into his personal space.

“Harley Quinn? Joker 2.0? Riddler, maybe, trying out a new look?”

One of the other goons--who’d come in and stood in the shadows--snickered. Green Hairspray shot her a nasty look.

“Oh, so you’re  _ also _ a joker, huh?” Thrift Store sneered. Before Dick could retort, his hand came crashing against his cheek.

The slap stung, but he’d had worse.

“Well you definitely don’t  _ hit _ like the Joker.”

There was a small crack in the smile plastered on the man’s face, but he quickly regained his composure, hand resting back on Dick’s shoulder, nails starting to dig into his suit, and leaning towards his face.

“The name’s Henry! And I-”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Dick scoffed. “Please, go by Joker 2.0, it’s much more threatening.”

Joker 2.0’s palm dug into his collarbone.

“ _ I _ am going to do what Joker was never able to do! I’m going to-”

“You’re going to kill Batman! Wow haven’t heard  _ that _ one before,” Dick rolled his eyes. Though the taunt came out of his mouth, Dick’s heart tightened. They’d all been inside the bank. He couldn’t tell them it was a trap. He’d failed.

In an instant, Joker 2.0’s hand was wrapped tight under Dick’s jaw, fingers slowly sliding up to squeeze his face. Dick tried to shake him off, but he kept a consistent pressure on his cheeks.

“ _ I _ am going to rid Gotham of  _ all _ the Bats,” Joker 2.0 paused, looking behind him to signal Green Hairspray over. 

Dick tried to see what he was doing, but he was still having trouble seeing and he couldn’t turn his head. He tensed and started to jerk against his restraints as he felt the cold needle stab his neck. 

As the world started to fade away again, he finished, “Starting with  _ you _ .”

JASON

D’S MISSING. WE’RE HANDLING IT.

Jason looked at the text he had typed six minutes ago. He still hadn’t sent it.

Bruce had been clear: none of them were to inform their “friends” of what had happened. He stood firm by the “no metas” rule, even when Tim almost begged him to let Conner come help. And though the order was mostly directed at the younger two, Jason wasn’t sure Roy didn’t count.

The text was still glaring up at him. He could help but think, didn’t Wally deserve to know? Had Bruce even said anything to Barbara? To Selina? Surely even she would keep an eye out for Dick.

Just as he was about to send it, Bruce walked into the dining room. He hesitated, but ended up sending it anyway. Wally would understand. Jason doubted he’d be happy about it, but he’d get the memo: family business; no metas.

Batman and Robin had gone out last night--after getting the others mostly patched up--to look for any sort of trail. Tim hadn’t left the Cave since they arrived, and when either Jason or Alfred tried to bring him food, he’d refuse it, zoned in on searching every city camera, every news alerts, and any van remotely similar to the one that they’d been tailing.

Jason knew he was no help since Bruce wouldn’t let him leave with his current injury. While he’d usually argue about it or just not listen, he had to admit he was still winded from the blow to the back. Not to mention, and he was sure Bruce was thinking it, too, he wasn’t confident he was mentally checked back in.

It had pissed him off that he’d practically disassociated twice during their fights, leaving him vulnerable and thus a distraction for the others to worry about. He tried to keep reminding himself it wasn’t his fault, but it didn’t help the fact that he felt completely useless in trying to save his brother. Dick would tell him it wasn’t his fault, either. But Dick would have made it out to help him had their roles been reversed.

Jason looked up from the table and saw Bruce leaning against the door frame, watching him, waiting for him to get out of his own head. He rolled his eyes and quickly looked at his phone. Wally hadn’t responded, nor would he. There was nothing else to be said.

“How’s your back healing?” Bruce never really sounded like he cared.

“Great. Can I go out, or am I still on suicide watch?” he crossed his arms and leaned his chair back.

“You’re not-” Bruce stood straight and narrowed his eyes. “You’re an adult. You can do whatever you want, Jason. I just  _ strongly _ advise you to get well rested and healed before knocking heads.”

“Well then, I’m gonna go find my brother,” Jason said, tipping his chair back on all fours and jumping up. The movement made him stumble into the table, and though his pride hoped Bruce hadn’t seen it, he knew he had. He continued out of the room.

“Jason,” Bruce caught his arm at the entryway.

He pulled away, but stayed where he was.

“I can’t-” his jaw clenched, something like a low growl came from his throat. Jason hadn’t seen that look on Bruce’s face in a long time. “I  _ won’t _ let another one of you get taken. I can’t lose him like-”

“B, Dick’s  _ not _ going to die.” Jason’s arm flinched, instinct telling him to give him a reassuring touch on the shoulder, but common sense knowing better than to display vulnerability to Bruce. “He’s stronger than m-”

“You’re _ all _ strong, Jason,” Bruce scolded before his features softened ever so slightly. Where Jason hesitated, Bruce firmly placed a hand on his shoulder. “And I know Dick isn’t going to die,” he paused, his hand tightening reassuringly, “because  _ I’m _ not going to let that happen. And I know  _ you’re _ not going to let that happen. Neither is Tim or Damian.”

Dropping his head, Jason bit the inside of his lip.

“That’s why we’re going to find him and bring him home. Together.”

“Damn, B, when’d you get so-”

“Father?” 

Jason and Bruce instantly straightened their posture, Jason taking a step away, when hearing Damian’s tired voice from the top of the stairs.

“Damian, what’s wrong?” Bruce headed for the stairs.

It was easy to tell he’d just woken up, and though he kept his hand near his eyes, rubbing the sleep away, it was also easy to see a single tear sliding down his cheek.

He cleared his throat and cleverly brought his hand down to wipe away the tear. “I heard you talking. Any updates?” He tried to make his voice have his usual confidence, but the sleep and sadness had made him sound like he might still be a child somewhere deep down.

Pausing halfway up the stairs, Bruce looked back to his older son, then back to Damian. “Not yet, but your brother was just about to go-”

“Was just about to go get some more z’s,” Jason cut him off, going up and around him on the stairs. When he got to the top next to Damian, he tried to give Bruce a smile, but he wasn’t really sure if that was something he could manage. “My back’s still sore and my head’s still foggy,” he scoffed a little, rubbing the back of his head.

Bruce didn’t move, but his shoulders relaxed a bit.

Turning to Damian and placing his hand on his shoulder, Jason said, “Why don’t you help me to the old room, huh?”

Damian looked down to his father, then back to Jason. He nodded once, taking his brother’s hand and placing it on his far shoulder as if to take some of his weight.

Jason looked back and saw Bruce going back down the stairs. He sighed and leaned a bit more into his little brother. He knew not to relax too much, it’d be pretty easy to throw Damian off balance with his weight, but he released some of the tension in his shoulders as they walked down the hallway.

When they got to Jason’s old room, he sat on the edge of the bed and started to take off his shoes. He looked up to see Damian still standing in the doorway. He managed to smirk a little then.

“You just gonna stand there?”

He expected some sort of condescending retort or scoff. Instead, the boy looked back down the hallway, then back at his brother. 

“You’re either gonna have to join the insomniacs, or, just this once, you can stay here,” Jason threw off his jacket and scooted to the far side of the bed, rolling onto his side, away from the door. “Either way, turn the light off.”

The light flicked off, and Jason shuffled a bit to get comfortable. There was silence for a minute, then the door softly shut. Another few seconds later, a weight dipped the bed and the blankets tugged tighter.

Finally letting weariness settle in, the last thing Jason heard before falling asleep was a soft “Thank you” from behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

DICK

Dick wasn’t sure if one of the goons had convinced Joker 2.0 to keep him alive longer, or if that had been the plan all along, but he wasn’t so sure he was happy about that.

He hadn’t eaten since before the mission, and he really wasn’t sure how long he’d been blacked out in the first place, but his body wasn’t a fan of how many calories he’d burned in however long it had been.

He’d come to about an hour ago after Green Hairspray had drugged him. The gang had left, but very little had changed. He was still chained to the chair, welded to the floor. He’d been gagged--the clown obviously not amused with his humor. He felt groggy from whatever sedative they’d injected in him, but he could at least see there was no guard left in the corner this time. He was alone.

As soon as he’d realized there was no one else in the room with him, Dick started to work his hand around again to work at the chains. Given he’d been stripped of his gloves, gauntlets, and belt, he didn’t have the tools necessary to pick the locks. He decided he’d just have to inch his arm out of the bindings. It was going to hurt like hell, but Dick decided he wasn’t staying there any longer.

Joker 2.0 had said he was  _ starting _ with him. His brothers, Bruce. They’d made it out, somehow. Which meant they were still in danger. It was only a matter of time before they were ambushed again. He  _ had _ to get out, get back to the others, prepare them. Maybe even hug them, if he had the time, because the relief he’d felt knowing they were alive was enough to push him into focus.

He’d barely gotten his left thumb near enough to his good hand to pop it out of place when the door in the back of the room creaked open. Dick froze, but kept his hands in position, ready to continue once no one was behind him.

He watched as Green Hairspray swaggered in front of him. 

“You were doin’ a lot of shufflin’ in here,” he gestured to the camera in the corner. “Uncomfortable?”

Dick shrugged and mumbled against the material pulled tight over his mouth--leather.  _ Kinky motherfuckers, _ he thought. 

“Shame,” he mused, tilting his head to the side and giving him a once over. He paused for only a moment before sucker punching Dick in the gut.

He instinctively went to fold in on himself, losing his grip on his broken hand and sending more pain through his arms as the chains tightened. He swiftly leaned back against the chair to loosen the binds.

“Y’know, I grew up watching you Bats take down the Joker and all those other crooks in Gotham,” he started circling Dick. “Never understood why the public liked you all so much. You’re the weaker side, always just got lucky. But y’know what? It was the strength in numbers, I’m sure. All those little birds poppin’ up one after another.”

Standing behind him, Green Hairspray slammed his hands down on Dick’s shoulders. “And then, one of ya gets in a little over his head, huh? And whatdyknow! He winds up busted by our  _ real _ hero.” His hands shot up: one tangled in his hair, pulling his head back, and the other tight around Dick’s throat, holding him in place. “Guess you didn’t learn anything from that one, huh?”

The man started to laugh, pulling Dick’s hair harder and making him curse under the gag. He tried lifting his body up to ease some of the tension, but the chains barely allowed him enough slack to ease the pain.

He finally shoved Dick forward, slapping him in the back of the head before returning to the back of the room. Dick shook himself once before trying to look where he was going. He couldn’t turn enough to see directly behind him, but from the sounds, it wasn’t hard for him to tell there was more than likely a cart back there with several tools for torture laid out for the goons to pick from.

Taking a deep breath, Dick thought about the tracker in his suit. All it would take was a touch to activate it--it didn’t even need to be his touch, just a firm, deliberate tap to the left side of the Nightwing symbol. It’d be easy enough to set off, but he wouldn’t use it. He wasn’t going to let the others get captured by the gang. He was determined to get himself out. He wouldn’t put his family in danger when he was perfectly capable of handling a little bit of pain and an over eager goon.

He straightened his shoulders and gave a bored look to Green Hairspray as he stood in front of him again--this time rolling a set of brass knuckles between his hands.

“It’s such a shame you got a pretty face,” he chuckled, finally sliding the knuckles over his left fingers, “‘Cause I ain’t gonna go easy on you.”

BRUCE

Bruce begrudgingly fell asleep that night shortly after Jason and Damian had. It hadn’t been intentional, but even  _ his _ body wore out to the point where he was forced to sleep. Of course that meant he had slept at a research table in the Bat Cave. It wasn’t uncommon for Alfred or one of the boys to find him asleep there, but he was usually at the computer.

He would have preferred to be there, but Tim had gotten into his trancelike state, eyes moving rapidly over the screens, taking in more information than most of the others could in a week. 

Typically, he wouldn’t hesitate to make his son move, but given his earlier conversation with Jason, he let the boy stay where he was.

Though when he did wake up a couple of hours later, there was a mug of cold coffee sitting next to the file he’d been holding, Tim was exactly where he’d left him: fingers flying over keys and consuming any alerts that might lead them to Dick.

Bruce stood up and took a sip of the coffee, looking at the time: 3:02. He looked over the chair to see what Tim had come up with. There were no leads, just articles of the explosion and the apparent limited sightings of the Joker copycats since then.

He knew he would have been awakened if anything important had been found, but he asked anyway, “Found anything?”

Tim didn’t even startle or look away from the screens. “Nothing of use. No breadcrumbs. No trackers activated. No followable footage of the grey van.”

“Have you slept?” He already knew the answer.

“No time. Gotta focus.”

“Tim,” Bruce laid a hand on his shoulder, which he just shrugged off.

“I don’t mind that you fell asleep,” he replied. “But I  _ can’t _ . Not until I find him.”

Bruce sighed. The fact that he, too, felt desperate to find his oldest and that he had done exactly what Tim was doing before the last mission prevented him from arguing with him or forcing him to sleep. The only reason he had slept was because his body forced him to.

He did momentarily contemplate if he should ignore his own rule against meta-humans in Gotham for the night if only to allow the Superboy to pull Tim away from the computer. He quickly abandoned that idea.

Still standing behind him, Bruce fell into the same rhythm as Tim, eyes scanning the screens, from security footage to articles and news reports. There wasn’t much useful information in it all, but even the repetitive media coverage of the explosion provided some insight. 

No other threats. No money stolen. No footage of the grey vans leaving two blocks away from the crime scene. No coverage about Batman being at the scene.

The gang had purposefully gone quiet--they were waiting for the other side’s move.

And if they’d touched a  _ hair _ on Dick Grayson’s head, they’d be sorry for trying to play the game.

“ _ Nightwing: Tracker Activated. _ ”

Both of their heads shot up to look at the top left corner of the big screen, a pop up with the blue symbol glowing and coordinates pinpointing a location on the West side of Gotham.

“Dick,” Tim whispered.

Bruce immediately turned on his heel, headed for his suit, ready to jump into action. “Upstairs. Wake the others.”

“Got it,” Tim leapt up from his chair and darted for his own suit, starting to change clothes as he moved.

“Alfred,” Bruce said, placing his comm into his ear. “I need you to keep an eye on things while we’re gone.”

“ _ Of course, Master Bruce _ ,” he replied. “ _ Priority on your coverage or the gang’s? _ ”

He paused. Though he hoped to be bringing Dick back, his gut told him otherwise. “The gang’s.”

“ _ Understood _ .”

As Bruce jumped into the Batmobile, pulling the cowl over his head, the three boys came running down the stairs. Tim, already geared up, hopped onto his bike as Jason finished throwing on his jacket, pulling on his helmet and jumping on behind him. Damian tossed his cloak over his shoulders and joined his father in the car.

“We found him,” Damian commented, trying to hide his eagerness.

“Stay focused,” Bruce responded. “We don’t know  _ who _ triggered the tracker. It could be a set up.”

“You don’t think it’s him,” Damian narrowed his eyebrows. “Tt. You could’ve at least mentioned that to us.”

“Focus, Robin,” he scolded.

“ _ Wait, you really don’t think it’s him? _ ” Red Hood’s voice came through the comms. “ _ Damn it, B. What the actual fuck? _ ”

“ _ They were headed East, Hood _ ,” Red Robin responded. 

“ _ So you’re saying, at best, we catch one of those motherfuckers and  _ make _ them tell us where Dick is. _ ”

“Red Hood,” Bruce warned.

None of them responded after that. They drove in silence to the coordinates--an abandoned street block near the farthest Western city limit of Gotham. It wasn’t the first time any of them had traced a criminal there, but the last  _ had _ been the Joker.

Bruce could sense the tension radiating off his son. Damian was angry at him, but more importantly, he was afraid. He’d never admit it himself, but it was obvious to Bruce that he cared deeply for Dick. It embarrassed the young boy to care, so he would never intentionally show it, yet anytime the first Robin went radio silent or got an injury or even just left the area for an extended period of time, Damian would go to any lengths to check in, even if he made it seem like his absence was an annoyance.

“We’ll find him,” Bruce finally said into the silence. 

Damian didn’t respond, but the tension relaxed just a bit until they reached their destination.

The two of them climbed out of the Batmobile and started walking towards the source of the signal. Red Hood and Red Robin quickly joined them, the latter doing a scan of the area.

“No heat signatures,” he mumbled, sounding disheartened. “That- That  _ can’t _ be right…”

Red Hood paused in his tracks for a brief moment, then darted toward a broken section of a brick wall. He started throwing pieces of rubble behind him, digging further down. He reached into the hole he had created and pulled something out.

“God _ damn it! _ ” he screamed, throwing the item to the ground.

Bruce walked over, observing the discarded item: Nightwing’s belt, tracker light blinking on and off, getting dimmer with each blink. He felt his shoulders drop, but was conscious to not dip his head in front of his boys. 

Robin started to silently take samples of the bricks around the area, looking for any tracks that might have been left, but anything left only led out a couple blocks.

It became more difficult to not feel defeated as he watched Red Hood grab a brick and chuck it at a building. He threw another brick--it broke into several pieces as it crashed into the ground--then dropped to his knees and punched at the ground.

He hadn’t gotten to Jason in enough time. He wouldn’t make the same mistake with Dick. And he wouldn’t let Jason down again. He turned, beginning to walk over to him.

“B,” Red Robin called, taking his attention.

Bruce looked over, watching as Red Robin reached back into the hole and used a stick to pull something else out: a glove. 

Red turned it a couple times, scanning it, then almost dropped it. He shut his eyes and breathed slowly. “Left hand glove. Bloody.” A look of sadness passed over his face as he pulled an evidence bag from one of his pouches, depositing the glove inside.

He walked to Bruce, gently handed him the bag, and walked over to Red Hood. He said something quietly to him--something the other two wouldn’t be able to hear. Hood nodded, then took the hand Red offered to help him up.

“There’s nothing else here,” he said, sounding defeated. “They were just taunting us, weren’t they?” He looked up at Bruce. 

Straightening his back once more, he cleared his throat. “We’ll take the evidence back to the Cave. See what we can learn from it.”

He walked back to the car and climbed in, waiting for Robin to join him. The three boys silently got to their vehicles, and they took off into the dim morning light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing in Bruce's pov was difficult, but I was definitely watching Sherlock when doing it, so that might have spilled in a little oops


	5. Chapter 5

DICK

Though his nose had stopped bleeding, it was difficult for Dick to open his right eye. Green Hairspray had lied, he did go easy on him, but “easy” with brass knuckles was still pretty bad. He definitely had a couple cracked and broken ribs, broken nose, and his shoulder got messed up when a poorly aimed face punch connected next to his collarbone.

He’d also stopped trying to spit out the blood in his mouth since it had nowhere to go under the gag. His initial reaction to spit it out was faster than his realization it would be caught by the leather. The pain was bad, but he was truthfully more disgruntled by how disgusting his lips and chin felt.

Apparently, the goons had a line up outside the room. After Green Hairspray left, satisfied with a good punch to the face and a few broken bones, another clown walked in, selecting a knife off the cart, and casually straddled his lap, twisting the blade around in her hands.

This one had at least taken the time to dye her hair green and wore what would probably be considered “good” makeup, though Dick wasn’t too concerned with eyeliner advice at the given moment.

She gently reached behind his head and undid the gag, letting it hang from his ear. When she saw the bloody spit smeared over his lip and chin, she scrunched up her face. 

“Disgusting.”

“You’re telling me,” Dick tried to wipe off the blood with his shoulder. “I would’ve just left it on.”

She hummed, tracing the tip of the blade across his cheekbones. “I wanna hear you scream,” she said before slicing a quick cut across his cheek.

It stung, but at least it definitely wasn’t worse than the cracked ribs. He huffed. “You’re gonna have to do better than  _ that _ , Beetlejuice.”

She cocked her head to the side, digging the blade slowly into his shoulder, smiling. “Don’t you worry, Nightwing. I’ve got my ways.”

Without warning, she pulled the knife out, then dug her thumb into the wound. The combination of the earlier bruising and the feeling of her finger digging into his skin made Dick’s entire body tense up as he hissed, sucking in a breath. He gritted his teeth as she continued to dig into his right shoulder, taking the knife in her other hand and working through the fabric over his side.

He let out a short grunt when the blade dragged through the skin over his ribs, the pressure on his shoulder increasing in sync with the cut. The knife sunk in deeper, causing a low growling sound in Dick’s throat. He was trying hard to suppress the gasps of pain, if only to piss off the goon. Though it became more difficult with each cut, it seemed to be working.

She pouted her lip, displeased all she’d gotten from him was groans and growls. It was her final strike, a quick, determined slice through his inner thigh that finally got him.

He hadn’t seen it coming. She’d been so focused on slow, concentrated cuts to his torso that when the blade sliced through, he gasped and yelled “Fuck!”

Smiling, she caressed his cheek that she’d first cut for a moment before finally exiting the room. He wasn’t sure if they were given some sort of time limit or what, but the goons came and went like that for what seemed like hours. 

None of them were particularly skilled torturers--the worst pain being a punch or cut over an area that had already been injured by a previous turn--but by the time the last one had his turn, his body felt like he’d fallen down 6 flights of stairs and landed in a pool of broken glass.

Breathing hurt, but he was at least thankful none of the other goons had covered his mouth again. He was able to breathe through his mouth and spit out any blood that came up with the gag forgotten.

As the last goon walked in front of him, Dick huffed and prepared for another round of fists to the face and gut. He wasn’t quite numb to the pain, but since everything hurt, there wasn’t one particular thing to focus on.

This guy was the creepiest. He didn’t look quite as enthused as the others. The mask he’d been wearing pushed up so that it pulled back his shaggy hair, revealing the face of a man--older than the rest--who looked like he’d seen some shit in his life. Dick braced himself for the same pain he’d received from the others, but it never came.

Instead, the man pulled out a vile from his jacket pocket, filled with a bright green liquid. 

Dick felt himself deflate. “Please tell me that’s Gatorade,” he mumbled.

The man finally smiled, popping the cork off the top. Dick’s feet started to push against the floor in a useless attempt to back away, but he was still shackled in place, unable to put distance between them.

He tipped the vile over the wound in his right shoulder and a small drop of the liquid sizzled in the gash.

At first, Dick just heard the sound, but soon enough, the small drop of acid started to burn his skin. He squeezed his eyes shut and hissed. The acid wasn’t long lasting, but he knew it was doing a lot of damage in that short amount of time.

The man let out a deep chuckle, then poured a large amount of the acid onto his shoulder. The fabric that hadn’t been cut away disintegrated and his skin started to melt. Unable to think through the pain, Dick yelled out as his skin continued to sizzle. 

Not waiting for Dick’s shoulder to stop melting, the goon poured another third of the acid onto his thigh. As soon as it hit his skin, he cried out. He hadn’t meant to, had tried the entire time the goons had beaten him to hold his tongue, but the pain from the acid was worse than the rest of the torture combined.

Tears stung at the corner of his eyes, pooling in the mask. 

There wasn’t much left in the vile, so the man splashed the remainder onto Dick’s chest, melting the suit and skin. The man didn’t stick around for the acid to die out, leaving him groaning and crying out in pain.

Somehow, not a single punch nor cut had landed near the tracker over his heart.

DAMIAN

Damian attempted going to school that Friday. It was good to keep up appearances as a Wayne and that meant attending classes. The beginning of the day hadn’t been great. He’d almost screamed at his father for making him go but had held his tongue. By the time maths started, he forced his brain to focus on problems he  _ could _ solve. Then by lunch he was back to thinking about Dick.

It didn’t make sense how those pathetic copycats had even gotten away with his brother in the first place, let alone come up with a scheme to  _ taunt _ the rest of them with misleading trackers and bloody pieces of armor.

Then, he’d almost punched another student who kept kicking the back of his seat in English, and that was when Jason was sent to pick him up.

Usually, Damian  _ hated _ when Jason was sent for him--he was very good at being annoying--but he was thankful to see him when he entered the academy’s attendance office.

Neither said a word as they exited the building, nor when they got into the car--one of their father’s. It wasn’t until they were halfway to the manor that Jason sighed and gripped the steering wheel tighter.

“You’re angry,” Damian stated.

“No shit,” he grumbled.

Damian raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t mean for that to-”

Jason groaned dramatically. “Dames, I get it, okay?” He slammed on the brakes when a traffic light changed suddenly in front of them. “Yes, I’m angry, but I’m  _ fine _ . I can fucking handle myself.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Damian leaned onto the door.

“I’m sorry, I just, ugh,” he ran his hands through his hair as they waited for the green light. “We’re all  _ feeling _ a lot,” he spat out the word like it was poison. “And we don’t  _ do _ feelings, so we’re all being fucked up about it.”

The light changed, and Jason stepped on the gas. 

“B’s acting weird, going from his usual stoicism to something like caring every once in a while, and that by itself is pretty fucked up. And I  _ know _ it’s because he thinks I’m not able to handle myself with this, but it’s just so weird!” 

Damian didn’t say anything. This wasn’t something he’d experienced before: Jason word vomiting his feelings. He’d heard him do it before--to Dick. But Dick wasn’t there. So, he listened.

“And  _ don’t _ get me started on Tim!” His foot pressed harder onto the gas pedal. “We got home this morning and he legit almost collapsed walking over the computer. He didn’t even change! Just went right back to his obsessive screen watching in full gear like he hadn’t even left.

“I can’t even focus! Like, I have my own goddamn cases to work on! I didn’t know B’s mission involved all this shit,” he waved one of his hands in the air. “Fucking,” he scoffed. “Fucking panic attacks and my damn PTSD flaring up and,” he made a noise that was supposed to be a laugh, but ended up sounding more like a sob. “And losing-”

“Todd! The light!” Damian smacked his arm as the traffic light before the bridge turned red.

Jason slammed on the brakes, both of them jolting forward, stopped by the seatbelts. He slammed his head against the steering wheel, openly crying.

Damian's eyes widened--he  _ definitely _ didn’t know how to handle  _ that _ \--but after a moment of contemplation, he gingerly tapped Jason’s wrist until his grip loosened and his hand fell onto his lap. Damian held his hand, not saying anything for a moment. 

Dick always kept a gentle hand on his when he had his nightmares. It always grounded him--made him find his way back to reality. 

Jason lifted his head and sighed.

“We didn’t  _ lose _ Grayson,” Damian said softly. “He’s still out there. He  _ has _ to be.”

His older brother looked at him like he had something on his face, but then his expression softened. “I know,” he whispered, looking forward and seeing that the light was green.

They drove the rest of the way to the manor in silence, but Damian kept his hand on top of Jason’s, making sure his older brother stayed grounded.

When they arrived, both quietly went inside the garage and headed their separate ways without a word. Damian made a mental note to threaten Jason if he told anyone, but he’d do it later, after they had Dick back.

He watched as he made his way towards his motorcycle and just sat there for a minute, staring into the wall in front of him. Damian walked inside, leaving him there. He figured his brother was probably going to leave, maybe to look for more leads on Dick, or maybe to work his own case. He tried to not let it bother him either way.

Damian made his way down to the Cave, finding Tim just as Jason said he’d been: suit on, eyes moving rapidly across the screens, like he was dreaming with his eyes open. 

“You look awful, Drake,” he walked up next to him and crossed his arms. “Make yourself useful and sleep.”

Tim didn’t react at all.

Then, he suddenly popped up and grabbed his mask.

“What are you do-”

“Some of Dick’s trackers only go to his safehouses. I’m going to check,” he stated, like it was obvious.

“You really think that’s wise? You look like a corpse.”

“I’m going to Dick’s apartment,” he glared, getting onto his bike. “Make yourself useful and either get out of my way or come with.”

Damian gave him a confused look. Tim  _ never  _ asked him to join on a mission. He wasn’t sure if they were both delirious or just his brother, but there was no way he was going to let a sleep deprived Tim go off on his own.

He grabbed his suit, Tim calling “Two minutes!” after him.

Not another word was said before Damian climbed behind Tim, and they drove off.

He was certain Tim was going to kill them both as the bike swerved through traffic, but somehow they made it to Dick’s Gotham safehouse--a shitty apartment just on the outskirts of the Narrows.

They snuck in without setting off alarms--both had access since they were in the area more often than Dick. Sometimes it was just nice to meet up with their older brother and get away from Bruce for a bit. The thought made Damian feel worse.

“Look,” Tim said, pulling him out of his thoughts. He pointed to a laptop left open on the kitchen counter. The screen was dark, but a blue light flickered on the keyboard.

It wasn’t difficult for Tim to get into the computer--whether he already knew the password or just guessed, Damian wasn’t sure--and find the coordinates from the tracker.

“I  _ knew _ he’d be smarter about it,” Tim nudged Damian with his elbow, a grin creeping across his face.

Damian scrunched up his face and quickly looked up and down at his brother. It was like he didn’t even remember he hated Damian, and he wasn’t sure he liked that.

“Come on.”

“Wait,” Damian grabbed his wrist and stopped him.

“What the heck are you doing?” Tim looked appalled. “Do you want to find Dick or not?”

“You’re  _ not _ driving,” he folded his arms.

“ _ Yes _ , I am.” Tim shook Damian’s hand off him and stomped to the door. “We’re going to find him and then everything will be fine.”

“I  _ know _ we’ll find him,” Damian followed, but made a point to slow them down. “But you’re delirious. You didn’t even tell Father where we were going.”

“So?” he climbed back onto the bike. “Neither did you. Let’s go.”

“I  _ never _ tell him what I’m doing. You, however, have a compulsive need for everything to be in order before you jump into something. What are we going to do  _ if _ we find Nightwing, huh, Drake?” He put his hands on his hips. “All three of us aren’t going to fit on your motorcycle.”

Tim faltered, if only for a second. “I- We’ll call for backup  _ after _ we make sure he’s okay.”

He rolled his eyes, but got onto the bike. He  _ definitely _ wasn’t going to let Tim go by himself.

“We’ll get him back,” Tim barely whispered, driving towards the new tracker location.

It wasn’t too far from the safehouse, a cramped back alley in the far side of the Narrows, but they were met with more disappointments.

“His shoes?” Damian nudged the boot with his own shoe. 

“Trackers in the soles,” Tim noted, as if Damian didn’t know that. “On- only he knows that, though. Maybe…” he turned around in a circle, looking for any sign of Dick. “Maybe he crawled somewhere? Get out of the light?”

Damian sighed. He was somewhere between pissed at Tim and worried for him  _ and  _ Dick.

“He’s not here, Red Robin,” he huffed, watching as Tim continued to scan the area for any clues to where their brother might be. “It was just another trick-”

“A heat signature,” he cut him off. “Nightwing?” Tim called down the alley.

Before the person could round the corner, Damian grabbed Tim’s arm, turning him around just in time for one of the thugs to jump down from the fire escape.

“Robin, go!” Tim shoved him toward the bike, but four more thugs dropped down into the alley. Both took their stances and jumped into action.

The thugs were untrained and it showed, but they had the upper hand with strength and numbers. Damian was caught up in taking on three of the thugs when he heard Tim yelp and turned to see him fall to the ground. As he watched, one of the men he was fighting pushed him into the wall. He lost his balance, but the thugs didn’t attack him again. They all ran to the end of the alley, one of them had Tim thrown over his shoulder.

Damian’s heart raced. Without thinking, he jumped on the motorcycle and chased them. He pressed a button on his helmet and called into the comm system.

“ _ Robin,  _ where _ are you? _ ”

“They took Red Robin!” He cut off his father. “Please, just hurry!”

“ _ I’m on my way! _ ” Red Hood’s voice came through. “ _ I’m just a few blocks over! I’ll cut ‘em off! _ ”

As Damian turned onto the main street, he saw Red Hood pull in front of the van. He threw one of his Birdarangs at the tire, causing the van to swerve and skid to a halt before running over the older brother.

Red Hood didn’t hesitate to shoot through the windshield and rip open the side door. Damian jumped into the van from the back door and knocked out the thug starting to tie up Red Robin.

One of the others tried to fight him, but Batman had suddenly appeared, pulling the man out and throwing him against the wall. Damian cut the ropes off Red Robin’s wrists before Batman threw him over his shoulder. He looked outside to see Hood cuffing the thugs to the railing of the building.

Neither said a word, but Hood gave Batman a single nod before punching one of the thugs in the face, most likely breaking his nose. Damian had to laugh.

“Cave. Now,” Batman ordered.

Damian didn’t argue. He couldn’t. He watched as Batman carefully set Red in the Batmobile and then took off. They left Hood to make sure none of the thugs escaped before the police showed up.

He’d almost lost another brother, and once again, there was nothing Damian could have done about it.


	6. Chapter 6

DICK

Dick was woken up when a hard punch came crashing into his face. He gasped, unaware that a gag had been put back on, and choked as his breath was cut off by the fabric--still leather but it seemed to sit differently over his mouth. Every move made his entire body ache. He hadn’t even been aware that he’d passed out. The last thing he remembered was the green haired girl returning to stand guard. She’d laughed when she saw his melted flesh.

Joker 2.0 decided to reappear. He hadn’t made an appearance during the trade off punching sessions. He was joined by Green Hairspray and another masked goon--who was shaking out their wrist. 

Anger finally made its way back into Dick’s veins. He lurched forward, only to be stopped by the chains and pain that came with moving. It also alerted him to something touching his hands. 

At first, he wasn’t sure what it was, his pain started to make his focus foggy, but it was something hard. Something attached to the chains. After a quick look around, it didn’t take him long to realize they were cables connected to a large control box on a table beside him. Another set leading to the chains around his legs. And yet another cable sitting to the side, waiting to be used.

It was then Dick realized he was definitely in over his head. They’d been so sure these Joker copycats were going to be easy. Even in his own capture, Dick had felt certain he would get out, be able to handle amateurs. But between the pain he was already in and how his body was already tensing at the thought of the inevitable electric shock heading his way, he knew he wasn’t going to have the strength to escape by himself.

“Glad you could join us,” Joker 2.0 smiled. “I see you got to enjoy my friend’s little acid bath.” He started to step closer. “Unfortunately, it does a little more than bleach the skin, but I think this effect is much more fun.”

Dick held himself still. He had to time his move. Though he’d been lucky none of the goons had cut through his tracker, enough volts of electricity were bound to knock it out.

Joker 2.0 bent forward, face in close proximity to Dick’s. He laughed. “You know, I almost got you a buddy to hang out with. One of the little ones. Sloppy, sloppy work,” he tutted.

It took all of his focus not to let his temper rise.

“Which one was it again?” He turned to look at Green Hairspray.

“Red Robin,” the goon snorted. “The other pretty one, amiright?” he elbowed the other goon who laughed and nodded along with him.

Unable to keep himself in check, Dick growled.

“Oh, did that strike a nerve?” Joker 2.0 taunted. “Maybe we should round them all up. Torture them in front of each other. See which one of you gives up fir-”

Dick took his shot and slammed his head into the other man’s. Joker 2.0 stumbled, reaching out to steady himself, right hand firmly planted onto Dick’s chest.

“Why you little…” he trailed off before pulling a decent left hook to his jaw. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the blood from his nose. Carelessly throwing it to the ground, he motioned for the masked goon to go over to the control box. “So teammates  _ do _ strike a nerve. I’ll have to remember that.

“Anyhow, I was going to just have some fun since I missed the rotating lineup last night, but now,” he paused to smile, “I think you need to be taught a lesson.”

Abruptly turning around and walking back to Green Hairspray, he stood tall in place and gave the other goon a single nod.

Dick had been electrocuted before. Hell, he fought with electric escrima sticks and had on more than one occasion accidentally tasered himself. He was prepared for the first round--not that it made it hurt any less, but it wasn’t the worst pain he’d been in even in the last 24 hours.

However, when the goon unexpectedly cranked it up more than a couple notches, Dick had to admit he felt like his entire body was being fried.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” Joker 2.0 suddenly exclaimed, signalling the goon to nix the electricity. “Can’t have you choking on your own tongue!”

The gag was once again taken off, but Dick’s mouth was only momentarily free from the gang’s seemingly endless supply of fetish gags. This time, a bridle sat in his mouth, straps still tight around his head.

The shock started at the same voltage it had left off, causing him to immediately yelp when it came on. The two stood right on the edge of the light, laughing as the masked goon continued to up the voltage, turning it off and on. He’d wait until Dick had caught his breath for a moment, then start it right back up.

It was at the fifth time the electricity was started up at a high voltage that Dick screamed out in pain. It came unexpectedly sooner than the others, and he lost his focus and his grip on the pain. 

The goons clapped and cheered as the voltage was upped and he lost complete control of himself. His body tensed and shook, making his injuries hurt and add on to the pain felt from the electrocution. Dick didn’t even know if he was still screaming. Everything hurt and tears fell from his eyes.

Then it abruptly stopped, leaving his body shaking. He squeezed his eyes shut and huffed, trying to breathe even though it hurt. He felt foolish for thinking it was over, but it didn’t stop him from hoping before one of them put something around his neck. His eyes snapped open, but he couldn’t see what it was.

“You wanna do the honors, friend?” Joker 2.0 asked before stepping away.

“I’d love to.” Green Hairspray grabbed the lone cable off the table and walked back to Dick. “Damn, I’m sure this is gonna hurt.” He attached the cable to the piece around his neck. “Glad we can test it out on you before the others, huh?”

Laughing, he walked back to his spot and watched as the electricity was started back up. It didn't start as high as it had gone off, but the added cable made the pain reverberated through his chest and head.

Once again, Dick cried as the voltage turned up. Though he knew he’d managed to set off his tracker, he was almost certain this wasn’t going to end well for him.

TIM

It didn’t take more than four hours after they’d gotten Tim back to the manor for him to wake up and go right back to work. He only slept for an hour, but he knew Alfred would have sent him back to bed if he left his room, so he sat up in bed, bandages shifting around his upper arm and ice pack resting on the back of his head, and read through news articles.

He kept the lights off, illuminated only by his laptop screen. There’d been press coverage of the cornered gang members. The GCPD had attempted to interrogate them, but one by one, they dropped like flies--cyanide capsules, the report said. They were all crazy, and they had all ruined any leads to Dick.

After enough time had passed, Tim decided he had rested enough. He rolled out of his bed and headed back to the Cave, stopping by the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. He would have to go back over the security footage from the alley he’d been attacked in. Find out which direction the goons had come from and where they were headed.

Bruce had taken his spot at the computer, so he went to the desk to study the pieces of Nightwing’s gear they’d picked up. 

All tests had been run, but Tim refused to believe there was  _ nothing _ to be found--nothing that would lead them to Dick.

The little dirt they were able to sample off the boots traced all over Gotham and Bludhaven. The rubble found stuck in the glove only led them back to the alley by the explosion. The drainage system the goons had crawled out of traced a couple blocks behind the bank, probably where they’d hidden their decoy van.

It didn’t make sense to him. How could these basic wannabes not only get away with Nightwing but also manage to throw off the rest of the team. It was like they were playing a game of keepaway--Dick was the ball and the others were the monkey in the middle.

Tim shook his head. His thoughts were starting to get twisted and strange. He hadn’t slept longer than a few hours over the three days since they’d lost Dick. And he hadn’t slept much more the week prior.

His entire life felt like it had been thrown off rail--like there weren’t even tracks anymore. He couldn’t focus on anything and because of that, couldn’t rely on his own brain to make sure he was seeing right. Jason couldn’t understand how Tim had found so much information to look through, but Tim hadn’t told him he’d just been going over the same articles and video footage again and again. 

What if he’d missed something? Something that led them to their brother? It would be his fault because his own mind rebelled against him.

Sitting at the desk, hands tangled into his hair, Tim bounced his leg as his eyes grazed over the information. His vision started to blur, everything turning into one big grey blob. He felt his head starting to droop.

Bruce quickly stood up.

“Did you find something?” Tim’s head shot up, room spinning slightly as he did. “Where are you going?”

Bruce momentarily looked disappointed but composed himself within a second. “I’m going to go through the footage from before you were knocked out, see if there’s anything we missed.”

“Oh,” Tim’s shoulders fell. He knew Bruce was disappointed in him. If only he could find Dick on his own…

“Tim,” Bruce had walked over to him without him even noticing. “We’re going to find him, I promise.”

He didn’t look up--didn’t need to see the look on Bruce’s face. “I know.”

Without another word, the man walked away.

And then, without missing a beat, Tim stood up and lunged toward the computer, throwing up all the news sites, security footage, and notes back onto the screens. He took another sip of his coffee, unaware the mug was empty. He scrunched up his nose and sat it back down with a huff.

He would have to call Alfred to get him a refill. That could wait until later, after he checked all the notes again. 

“There’s something we missed, I  _ know _ it,” he said to himself.

As his eyes scanned across the screens, his brain wandered. He thought of Jason and the three panic attacks he’d had since the explosion. Tim wasn’t Dick--he didn’t know if he was properly comforting him and or reassuring him everything was okay. Especially since everything  _ wasn’t _ okay. Apparently, Damian had managed to help during the last one. It made Tim feel like even more of a failure.

He’d let himself get captured, and had to be saved by Damian. It was like a cruel trick of fate. Damian didn’t even  _ like  _ Tim, yet he’d purposefully gone with him to make sure Tim’s sleep deprived state didn’t get him hurt. 

Tim’s phone started vibrating in his pocket. It had gone off at least ten times since he’d awakened. He knew who it was, and he knew what all the texts said.  _ That _ was a distraction he didn’t need. If he replied to Conner, taking his focus even momentarily off finding Dick, he’d give up. He’d leave Gotham in an instant and run to his arms, heart shattered and hoping Kon would pick up the pieces. So, he didn’t look.

Instead, he let his eyes go back to scanning the screens. No new news, the footage from the explosion and the alley on loops. Tim’s brain told him he hadn’t missed anything, but his heart told him to keep going.

His vision blurred, head drooping. Thoughts drifting away. Tim didn’t even notice that his eyes had closed. 

“ _ Nightwing: Tracker Activated _ .”

Tim jumped at the sudden noise. 

_ How long was I asleep? When did I even- _ Tim stopped thinking as the pop up in the corner of the screen blinked.

“Dick?”

The coordinates started to narrow in onto the activated tracker. It seemed to be moving in slow motion, and Tim thought he was still sleeping.

Just before zeroing in on an exact location, the tracker stopped, disappearing from the screen. Tim jumped up.

“No! Wait!” 

Furiously, he looked for the tracker information. As he searched, he heard footsteps coming closer.

“Tim, what happened?” Bruce leaned over the chair, watching him.

“Tracker,” he mumbled. “Nightwing’s tracker went off, and I can’t  _ find _ the damn app- aha!” He clicked on the tracker’s history and found what he was looking for. “Eastern riverfront--Penguin?”

“Territory doesn’t belong to anyone, but it  _ is _ bordering on Penguin’s warehouses,” he frowned. “This tracker didn’t stay on?”

“The other’s, the decoys, they did,” Tim looked up, a feeling of hopefulness suddenly building up in him. “B, do you think-”

“Alert Red Hood and Robin. Suit up,” Bruce turned away, already heading towards his own gear.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: this is the most violent chapter.   
> Shorter than the rest with just one POV, but a lot happens.

DICK

There were no windows in the room, just the door people often came in and out of, so Dick had no idea how long he’d been in there. When the first proper round of torture had happened, he assumed it hadn’t even been a full day, maybe just over twelve hours. Then, bye the time he’d been electrocuted--the first time--he thought it had only been two days since the mission. He really had no idea how long he had blacked out from  _ that _ particular session.

Goons had rotated in and out since then, mostly just taunting about his brothers. Joker 2.0 must have passed along the message that it had pissed him off. They weren’t very good at it--torturing or taunting--but after a while it got tiresome and built up. 

Some were handsy. It didn’t affect him until one of them reached a little too below the belt. He’d panicked, tried to shake her off his lap, but he had no leverage or enough energy to fight. It seemed she only intended to tease, but it had shaken him. 

There were few that were particularly descriptive in the hypothetical torture of his family. And a handful of those were especially interested in Red Robin--said they’d grabbed him earlier and would have ripped him apart in front of him. If Dick had been able to move, he would’ve beaten them within an inch of their lives. 

There was a constant presence in the room, no breaks for silence or a chance to catch his breath. He’d been electrocuted again, though not as intensely as the first time. 

The last time someone came in, a couple of the masked goons rigged a shower head and garden hose to pour a consistent stream of cold water over him. He wasn’t sure his ability to guess time was quite as reliable as it had been a couple days prior, but by what he thought was the second hour, his body was shivering so harshly he decided it didn’t matter.

They had left the gag on, Dick’s teeth chattering underneath the fabric. He didn’t even notice when someone had turned off the water until they slapped him across the face. Though his eyes felt heavy, he opened them to see Joker 2.0 standing in front of him, smiling. 

“Cold?”

Dick didn’t respond. He was tired and wanted to save as much energy for escaping when they  _ finally _ left him alone. It had felt like days since he’d tried to set off his tracker, it made him think it hadn’t worked. The signal hadn't been sent and Batman wouldn’t find him. He would have to go back to his original plan and wiggle himself out of his restraints--it would be much more difficult--and hope that he could make it far enough away so the goons wouldn’t be able to find him.

He’d get back to the Cave, warn the others that these clowns weren’t fucking around. Then, once he knew they were better prepared, he would-

Another slap stung his cold cheek.

“Are you even listening?” Joker 2.0 yelled. He seemed more amused than angry.

Dick slowly rolled his head back to look him in the eyes and huffed.

“Hah, even mention of your teammates can’t get your attention now, hmm?”

He raised an eyebrow.  _ He’d mentioned them? He better fuck off, _ Dick thought to himself. 

“Oh, I won’t bother repeating myself. You’d just forget it anyway,” he smiled his wicked smile and left him with some of the goons.

Dick closed his eyes again. They’d probably start hurling insults, maybe punches, again, but he didn’t care. He had to keep his strength for escaping. It was all he could focus on--all he  _ wanted _ to focus on. If he slipped just a little, the pain would take over. He felt a weariness wash over him. 

He wasn’t sure if the goons were actually being silent or if he was so out of it, the words just turned to white noise. His head bobbed, each time it fell forward, he snapped back up, sending a jolt of pain through his neck and back. After a few times, he decided there was no point in trying to stay awake. He needed his strength to escape, so a short nap wouldn’t hurt. 

Closing his eyes and letting his head fall towards his chest, Dick managed to disregard the pain and rest.

It felt like he had only just shut his eyes when he was being jostled around. His first reaction was to be pissed he’d been woken up, but then he felt the chains around his arms loosen. A spike of adrenaline rushed through him. There were still hands on his arms, but once the chains were gone, he didn’t hesitate to start shoving the goons off. 

Ignoring the pain, he punched one of the masked figures and pulled his other arm away, the right half of his shirt tearing off as the goon fell to the ground. He shook the fabric on the other side off, laughing quickly as he felt the rush of excitement to get out of the room. 

Just as he went to run, he was harshly reminded of the chains around his legs. He fell to the ground, reaching out to catch himself, but his broken hand gave out and he crashed into the concrete.

He groaned as a rush of feet sounded into the room, followed by the roar of laughter from the gang. 

_ Fucked that up, _ Dick thought to himself as he was pulled back to the chair, two of the stronger goons holding him down that time. He felt tired, sore, humiliated. The goons continued laughing as Joker 2.0 stepped forward.

Dick was angry, huffing and ready to start fighting through the pain. He jerked forward, but the goons dug their fingers into his arms and pushed down harder. He’d hit his breaking point.

He started screaming at the man, but his threats and insults were muffled by the gag.

Joker 2.0 scoffed. “Look at you,  _ pathetic _ .” 

Dick felt one of the goons momentarily loosen his grip and used the opportunity to jump forward at the man. He managed to get in one weak punch, but it was enough to piss off the clown.

He grabbed Dick by the hair and pushed him down to his knees. Dick tried to push his hands off his head, but he was grabbed by another goon who snapped handcuffs over his wrists. Joker 2.0 snatched the chain and threw him to the ground once more. The goon stomped down on the chain and forced him to stay down, ankles still attached to the chair.

His whole body shook as he choked back a frustrated sob. Dick was angry at himself for being weak, for waiting too long, for thinking he’d be saved. It had been selfish of him to even try to contact his family. If they’d been there, gotten captured, it would have been his fault because he had been too weak to get himself out.

“Hey, Curly,” Joker 2.0 called. “You still got that fancy whip in the back?”

Dick sighed, tried tugging against the handcuffs, but it only caused him more pain. He’d  _ really _ gotten in over his head-- _ really _ underestimated his circumstances.

A high pitched voice from the back corner of the room replied, “Oh,  _ hell _ yeah!” and a set of heels clipped out of the room.

His breath started getting heavier, he couldn’t calm himself down. He told himself he wasn’t afraid, he was  _ angry _ , but when the sound of heels returned, his body tensed up. He’d been lashed before--a few times--and he certainly  _ never _ enjoyed it.

“How many should we give him?” the high pitched voice asked.

All the people around him started shouting numbers, but were silenced by someone who finally said, “Until he breaks!”

The gang started whooping and hollering as the heels walked closer to him. The goon standing on the chain of the handcuffs reached down and took off the gag, then backed up. Instinctively, Dick tried to push himself up. He’d barely gotten himself into a kneeling position, eyes locking with Joker 2.0 briefly before the first crack sounded.

Dick groaned loudly and buckled forward with the pain. He held himself up with his right hand, but lurched forward again when the whip came down across his back another time.

The gang continued cheering as the single goon lashed him over and over again. By the sixth one, he had screamed out in pain, getting a loud cheer in response. By the eighth, he’d fallen flat to the floor.

No one kept count, but Dick continued to yelp and groan in pain with each crack of the whip. The final one he felt was right across his lower back, and with that, he’d blacked out, though not for long.

He came back to, face still pressed to the floor, cheeks damp with tears, and throat raw from screaming. The goons grabbed his arms again and slammed him into the chair, sending a jolt of pain through him along with a wave of nausea. He was thankful the gag was still off because he leaned to the side and threw up what little was in his stomach.

“Ugh,” the goons groaned in disgust.

“Someone clean that up,” Joker 2.0 ordered as the crowd left from the room. 

He walked up to Dick, taking his chin roughly in his hand while goons behind him tied him back to the chair. He tried to force him to look up at him, but wasn’t able to open his eyes, so Joker 2.0 shook him until he did. 

“Don’t worry, Nightwing. I did promise you’d be the first,” he hummed, “but I  _ do _ wish for your friends to see you die.”


	8. Chapter 8

JASON

“We’re gonna have to look through Penguin’s shit, aren’t we?” Jason complained, hopping onto his motorcycle.

Though he grumbled, it was because of the surge of hope running through him. A tracker only coming on for a minute? Either the thugs slipped up, or Dick had activated it. Either way, it was a location, a lead.

It wasn’t the best lead, but it was one nonetheless. Since the signal hadn’t lasted long enough to give them exact coordinates, they would have to thoroughly search all the warehouses and buildings along the riverfront. It would take time, and they would have to be careful as to neither alert the Joker wannabes nor get Penguin’s attention.

But Jason could feel it in his gut--Dick was there.

Jason himself had searched the East side the day after, but there hadn’t been anyone there. Some of Penguin’s men in his territory, but everything else had been empty. So either the gang was smarter than they’d originally believed them to be or they’d moved there after Jason had searched.

Either way, the circumstances pointed to the team underestimating those clowns. Jason wasn’t happy about that, but the high of the adrenaline coursing through him kept him focused on getting to the river.

Red Robin took off after him, taking the opposite route in order to throw off any reports of them moving.

“ _ Red Hood, you and Robin will take the farside, _ ” Batman’s voice came over the comms. “ _ Pick up at the bridge. _ ”

“Copy that,” Jason sped down the road, his heart hammering in his chest. He hadn’t anticipated being as excited as he was driving towards the tracker’s location, but the thought of getting his brother back made him drive faster.

He stopped on the near side of the bridge, waiting only a minute for the Batmobile to pause next to him. Robin jumped out and ran over to the motorcycle. He didn’t hesitate to climb on and get going.

They crossed the bridge and headed towards the Northernmost part of the tracker’s signal.

“ _ You’re going to be in Penguin’s territory. Don’t do anything to stir up trouble, _ ” Batman warned. “ _ We do  _ not  _ need a confrontation with him tonight. _ ”

Jason stopped just outside of the row of warehouses, ditching his bike in a shadowed alleyway. It didn’t sound like there was anyone around, but anyone with experience wouldn’t be making noise. He walked in the shadows against the building, followed closely by Robin. He momentarily wished he were by himself--it would be much easier to explain why Red Hood was snooping around Penguin’s warehouses than to explain why Red Hood was  _ with _ Robin snooping around Penguin’s warehouses.

He let the thought slip away. They needed to cover more ground to find Dick, and at least he knew his little brother would be safe at his side. He’d been thankful when Batman had kept Red Robin at his side. Damian usually jumped in headfirst in fights, Tim didn’t--but Tim wasn’t acting a lot like himself, so Jason figured he could count on Damian’s aggression.

They were moving onto their third warehouse when Jason heard something drop from the rafters. He shoved Robin against the crates, trying to find where the noise came from. There had been a couple of Penguin’s thugs outside, but they wouldn’t have heard it.

“Someone just ran out,” Robin whispered, pointing in the direction of an open window at the far side of the ceiling. “They’re headed South!”

Jason looked back at where the noise had come from and saw a pipe on the ground. He walked over and kicked it, making it roll over a bit. Picking it up, his back tensed.

“Escrima,” he sighed.

“What?” Robin hissed.

Tapping his in-ear, Jason sighed. “One of Nightwing’s escrima sticks. They know we’re here.”

“ _ We just saw someone running towards an unmarked warehouse, _ ” Red Robin replied. “ _ Fits the look of the copycats. _ ”

“It could be a diversion,” Robin grumbled, crossing his arms. “They seem to like those.”

“ _ Red Robin and I will check it out. You two keep an eye out. We’ll signal if we find anything. _ ”

Robin huffed, but still followed behind Jason as they stayed out of sight of Penguin’s men and entered the next warehouse. There were more crates and a handful of thugs rotating in and out of the supplies, but they were easy to avoid. Jason figured one of them would be back within the week to see what was going on, but it wasn’t his biggest concern of the night.

“ _ Red Hood. Robin. Get here immediately, _ ” Batman’s voice came over the comms, making the two jump. “ _ We’re under heavy fire. At least ten men that we can see. _ ”

“On it,” Jason whispered. 

They snuck out of the warehouse and headed back towards the bike. As Jason drove to Batman’s location, he heard gunfire to his left. A thug in a clown mask was following them.

“Robin, can you-”

“Taking care of it,” Robin cut him off, grabbing something from his utility belt. He threw one of his explosive Birdarangs at the other bike, detonating as it stuck into the metal.

They were technically outside of Penguin’s territory, but the sound of the fight and explosion would alert the gang to their presence.

It wasn’t difficult to find Batman and Red Robin. They had the full attention of all the visible thugs. Jason wasn’t sure where they’d found that many guns, but he did know they were all shitty at using them.

He saw a few had already been taken down by Batarangs and explosions, so it didn’t take him too long to shoot the remainders alongside Batman. He was sure to  _ not _ kill any of them because of that, though the longer he thought about them taking his brother, the more he wished he would have shot their brains out.

When it was quiet, Jason noticed that Red Robin was in the process of hacking into their system. It was obvious he was scanning through all their security footage, but it was the last camera he saw that made him gasp.

“What is it? What did you find?” Jason kneeled down next to him, trying to see the screen he was looking at.

“He,” Red Robin’s voice was barely a whisper. He quickly shook his head and cleared his throat. “Confirmation that Nightwing is  _ here _ .”

TIM

There was an underground room, right below the pier of the unclaimed territory. One access point in the back of the warehouse. With the water above it and the fact that they were pretty sure none of the other pier warehouses had a room like that, it was easy to miss unless someone was right over it--like the team was.

Tim felt himself shaking. His nerves were all on high alert. His nap earlier gave him enough energy to not feel like he was going to pass out any time soon. Robin kicked down the door to the office room, allowing Tim to enter. The office room was smaller on the inside, but on the far wall, there was another door--too far away from the wall to lead to the outside.

The door led to a set of stairs. He could hear voices at the bottom, none of them belonging to Dick. 

“There’s at least four of them down there,” he whispered. “I can’t tell if Nightwing’s in there or not.”

“Smoke screen,” Batman ordered. 

He nodded, carefully taking one step down. He tossed one of his smoke bombs down. It activated on contact, and the four of them leapt down to the floor.

There were six goons, all armed, but it didn’t take the four Bats long to disarm and subdue them. Red Hood grabbed the last one with hair sprayed green by his shirt collar and yanked him up in the air, the man’s feet dangling a couple inches above the ground.

“Where is he? Where’s Nightwing?!” Hood’s voice was distorted by his helmet, sounding like several voices speaking at once. He shook the goon. “Answer me!”

“You won’t like what you find,” the man smirked. He pulled at Hood’s hands, but the effort was weak, like he expected that kind of response.

Red Hood screamed and threw the goon into the wall, his head hitting the concrete hard.

They all waited for the usual scolding from Batman, but when one didn’t come, Tim turned to look at him. He was scanning a door on the other side of the hallway. He walked behind him to see what he was looking for.

“Two heat signatures. One holding the other by the hair, I assume.” It wasn’t often Batman sounded more like Bruce with the cowl on, but Tim could hear the change. Something was making him hesitate.

“We  _ have _ to go in,” Robin said. He, too, seemed to be letting more emotion into his voice than usual. 

“Slowly,” Batman ordered, hand hovering over the door knob.

He cracked the door open, revealing a dimly lit room. In the center of the room, a man stood next to a metal chair someone else was seated in. He had a gun pressed close to the temple of the victim, smiling at the team. They slowly started to circle around the two, and the sight became worse. Tim inhaled sharply.

“So nice of you all to  _ finally _ stop by!” the man laughed. “I told Nightwing here that you were on your way, but he seemed disinterested. Isn’t that right, pretty bird?”

The chains around Dick’s arms didn’t move. His eyes were closed and a gag covered his mouth.

“He’s had a lot of other things on his mind the past few days, y’know.”

Tim had already run the basic scans with his mask--and he was sure the others had too. Even without the scan, his heart would have sank. Dick’s shirt had been taken off, revealing a multitude of bruises and cuts over his torso. Blood and bruises covered his face. His feet were also chained to the chair.

Red Hood lifted his gun. “Put the gun down, or I shoot you.”

“Oh, that’s fun!” the man laughed again. It was painfully obvious that he was trying to imitate the Joker, right down to his tacky suit. “But from where  _ I’m _ standing,” he paused, moving so that he was behind the chair and the gun was placed under Dick’s jaw, “If you shoot, I kill him!”

“If you wanted him dead, you would have killed him already,” Robin sneered, dangerously close to jumping across the room and attacking the man.

“Don’t be confused: I  _ do _ want him dead,” he tightened his hand that was tangled in Dick’s hair. “I want you all dead. But I thought to myself: What would be the best way to finish off the torture of the first Bat I caught?”

“Killing yourself instead?” Hood retorted, not lowering his gun.

“Good one! But no,” he changed his position so that the gun was pressed against Dick’s temple, his other hand now trailing down his shoulder. “Making him watch you guys get a little tortured first.”

Hood straightened his back, still calculating his shot. The wannabe made sure he was always protected by Dick’s body.

“Why don’t we try and wake him again, huh?” Before any of them could say anything, the man moved the gun and shot Dick in the thigh.

A weak scream came from behind the gag, making Hood’s hands tighten even more. Dick’s head lulled for a moment, and he tried opening his eyes, but Tim could tell he was out of it. There’d be no way he would remember any of this.

The gun was back on his head in an instant, making it difficult again for Hood to shoot.

“Well, I tried,” he shrugged. “Y’know, it’s a shame. He was so talkative at the beginning of our time together. A little too talkative,” he pulled on the gag. “And you,” he pointed at Tim. “ _ You _ were supposed to visit him before he ended up this… this way.”

The four of them stared down the man, each of them trying to figure out how to pull the copycat away from Dick. 

“The rest of us, oh boy, they had some  _ fun _ plans for you, Red Robin!”

Tim tried to keep his focus.

“They said you were the  _ second _ prettiest bird,” he pulled Dick’s hair, making his head fall back. “After this one, of course.”

Tim was shaking. He knew it. His brothers knew it. The copycat Joker knew it. He was accustomed to the sensation of invisible hands on him, but the feeling he got from the words and gaze of the man was nothing like that. His skin crawled with the insinuation of what he said. Not only because of what it meant about him, but what it meant about Dick being held in the underground room.

“Maybe we’ll be able to get him a little more coherent before-”

“Fine,” Tim finally spoke, forcing himself to be confident.

Red Hood’s focus momentarily snapped. Even with the helmet on, Tim knew he was giving him a “what the hell?” look. He also didn’t need to look at Robin to know his face looked the same, and that Batman’s didn’t because he was Batman and didn’t do anything other than brood.

He’d figured it out. He knew how to give Hood the shot, Tim just hoped he understood what he was doing.

“You want me so bad?” Tim took a step closer. “Fine,” he repeated, letting himself sway a bit. He had to convince the man he was scared. “Just please, leave him be,” he pleaded. He unbuckled his belt and let it drop to the floor, taking another step forward, unarmed.

“Red Robin, what are you doing?” Robin sounded angry.

Tim took another step towards the man.

“Oh?” The man moved quickly, dropping the gun from Dick’s head and pulling Tim in to him. He spun him around, making him face his family. They were all tense. The man slid his gun into his holster, making sure Tim was blocking him from the Bats. 

As a hand started to slowly move over his shoulder, the other reaching up along his side, trailing up his torso.

“I  _ do _ wish Nightwing could see this,” he whispered in Tim’s ear, lips starting to press against his neck.

“Me too.”

He didn’t even look at Red Hood. He quickly dropped to his knees and heard the shot. 


	9. Chapter 9

DAMIAN

Damian kicked the utility belt towards Red Robin. He thought it was stupid--Red putting himself on the line like that without even bringing it up to the others--but he would have to belittle him later.

Red Hood lunged forward as soon as the Joker wannabe dropped and started beating him up. Damian figured it must be cathartic. He and Batman stood at the back of the room, door open, waiting to see if more goons came in, giving Red Robin cover.

When it seemed clear, Batman ran into the hallway, and Damian turned to help Red.

“Ankles, if you would,” he didn’t look up as he picked the lock holding the chains around Dick’s arms together.

“On it.” Damian knelt down in front of his brother and started breaking the lock there.

He heard a soft grunt from the back of the room, Hood finally getting off the thug. He walked over to them, staring blankly at Dick. Damian could tell from the way he hesitated that he was on the verge of another panic attack.

“You gonna help?” Damian asked, unwrapping the chains from around Dick’s legs.

Red Hood nodded once, gently reaching around Dick’s head to remove the gag. His mouth fell open, blood dried on his lips and chin. A faint red mark that sat just to the side of his lips was a similar color to the lipstick he’d noticed on the fake Joker. He tried not to think of the implications as he finished removing the chains.

Hood started working on the bullet wound on Dick’s thigh.

As soon as his legs were free, Damian grabbed the roll of gauze Red had sat on the floor and passed it to Red Hood. He wrapped it tight around the bullet wound, trying to stop the bleeding. 

Hood made a disgusted sound, making Damian look up as he secured another bandage.

“Vomit,” Hood said, repulsed. He pointed to Dick’s arm that seemed to be covered in something.

Red nodded, finally getting the last restraints off of his arms. “I smelled it when I walked over.”

When his grip left his arms, Dick started to fall over. Hood caught him, making Dick give a small whimper. Red started to get up, then made a disgusted face. “What did they  _ do _ ?” he sounded appalled.

Damian stood and joined to see a multitude of deep red gashes criss crossing over Dick’s back.

“Lashed,” Hood breathed. “ _ Fuck. _ ”

It was clear from the scorch marks on his wrists that matched ones on his ankles that he’d been electrocuted, too. What other horrors the gang had done to him would most likely be as bad.

“We have to get him out of here,” Red pressed two fingers against his neck, checking his pulse. He closed his eyes, a look of deep sadness taking over his features. “His heart-”

“Will keep beating faster if we don’t give him medical attention ASAP,” Batman finished, rejoining the group and taking Dick out of Red’s hands. “Red Hood, Red Robin, go clear the way. Robin, stay on my six.”

Red gave him a defeated look.

“ _ Now _ .”

He jumped to his feet, following Hood out the door. Gunshots came from the top of the stairs, but that didn’t stop Red Hood from making the thugs back off. Damian watched and listened for the all clear sign. Once it was given, he followed right behind Batman, who had Dick thrown over his shoulder, other hand still ready to throw projectiles if he needed to.

They made it back to the main level, and it seemed that there were only a handful of the thugs left. Red Robin and Red Hood made quick work of subduing them. A few more waited outside, shooting at the entrance, but Batman used his free hand to toss an explosive in their direction, knocking them off their feet and into the air.

They got halfway to the batmobile before gunfire started raining down on them from the other direction.

“Batman?! Why the fuck is he here?”

Damian looked across the lot to see a group of men running towards them.

“Penguin’s guys,” Red grumbled. “Hood-”

“He’s already out,” Batman crouched behind a group of abandoned barrels, gently setting Dick on the ground against them. They could hear a motorcycle rev up from a few buildings away. He barely glanced at the thugs before chucking a Batarang towards the gunmen. 

With the gunfire pausing, Damian jumped up and started clearing the way, Red Robin at his side. Taking out Penguin’s men was easy, so Batman was able to quickly get to the Batmobile and get Dick in.

Damian ran over to the car, ready to jump in and make sure his brother was taken care of, but his father had other plans. He had already gotten Dick into the passenger seat, who was still completely unconscious. He stopped Damian from jumping in.

“You two will give me coverage to get out,” Batman ordered.

“But, Father-”

“ _ Robin _ ,” he clenched his jaw. 

Damian couldn’t decide if he was angry at him or still steaming from how they found Dick. “What if-”

“You are  _ not _ to leave Red Robin, understood?”

He stepped back, then felt a bit of tension fall from his shoulders. He did understand, even if he wasn’t pleased about it. “Understood.”

Batman jumped into the car and the doors slid down over them. The Batmobile’s engine revved, and then it smoothly swung around, driving away. Damian didn’t wait to watch them leave.

He ran back to the fight. He was desperate to release some of the pent up anger, but the nagging thought of getting the job done quickly so he could get back to Dick kept him focused. 

There was more gunfire from behind them again--some of the copycats coming to and picking up their guns. Red Robin was quick to throw an explosive their way, making some crates crash in front of them, giving them coverage. Once they were taken care of, they went back to keeping the thugs distracted and inching closer to Red’s bike.

They didn’t need to speak to get away. Damian kept the thugs off of them--maybe going a little overkill on taking them down--while the other started the motorcycle. With one last kick to the man’s jaw, Damian leapt onto the bike behind Red. He threw one more smoke bomb behind them, giving them a better escape.

“ _ We’re out _ ,” Red Robin said over the comms.

“ _ Tailing B _ ,” Red Hood finally rejoined them.

“ _ Stay focused _ ,” Batman almost sounded like he was talking to himself. “ _ And get back to the Cave _ ,” he paused, “ _ safely _ ."

JASON

There’d been minimal arguing while tending to Dick’s wounds, but there had still been angry words thrown at each other. The biggest problem being Tim and Damian’s incessant need to help. It was clear that Alfred and Bruce had it covered--Jason refused to leave Dick’s side and was more difficult to get rid of--but the two kept trying to elbow their way in.

Jason understood why. They wanted to help, and they also didn’t want to leave his side, but there was too much going on. It started to stress him out. So he yelled some potentially harmful things at them. 

Damian had stormed off. Tim had looked more hurt than Jason had expected. He’d deal with the fallout later. 

Between the three of them, they’d sewn up, disinfected, and wrapped any open wounds, dug the pieces of bullet out of Dick’s thigh, and got him hooked up to oxygen, monitors, and fluids. Jason even offered to start washing off the blood and grime off his brother.

After Alfred brought him a bowl of water and washcloths, he was finally left alone with an unconscious Dick.

The only sounds in the room were from the beep of monitors and gentle sloshing of water. He wasn’t overly fond of that type of silence, but he preferred it to the endless stress of being around the rest of the family.

The energy that had been radiating off Bruce was almost more frightening than the situation itself. It was clear he was working harder than usual to push down his emotions. Wherever he had gone, Jason was sure he was doing some unhealthy coping.

Damian hadn’t reappeared since Jason had yelled at him. He hoped he’d passed out somewhere in the manor. He’d have to apologize later, but he knew the kid needed time to blow off some steam and rest. He was closest to Dick, relied on him to keep him up--they all did.

Losing him had made Jason realize that. He knew what his brother meant to him, but it was watching Damian show gentleness and Tim lose his focus that really made him see just how much the oldest boy meant to the others. He was the glue that held them all together.

Jason was barely holding it together. As he paused in washing the dried blood off Dick’s face, Jason’s vision blurred and he started to breathe faster. He tried to focus, sitting on the chair and getting himself grounded, but all he could see was Dick’s broken body and all he could hear was the sound that reminded him Dick’s heart just wasn’t working the way it should.

Jason felt his body tense as he was overcome by visions of a dark room, a laugh, a gunshot. He dropped the cloth onto the table and pulled his knees up towards his chest, wrapping his arms around them.

He was pissed off for losing himself again, but his thoughts quickly shifted from anger to fear. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop the silhouette of the Joker coming closer to him. He could feel the pin pricks of the barbed wire digging into his skin, could hear himself crying, pleading with whatever higher being there was to save him.

He kept waiting for the first hit to come--the clash of iron against bone--but it never came. He wouldn’t see it coming. It would just suddenly be there and it wouldn’t stop.

Just like the beeping wouldn’t stop. Seconds counting down. He knew he was going to die and all he could think about was how he’d let B down again.

Then the connection came. 

Though it was softer than he remembered, Jason still screamed out as something came into contact with his shoulder.

“No! Don’t! Please!”

He couldn’t move. He was still bound and any movement would hurt. He just wished the explosion would go off. He just wanted it to be done.

“Jay, hey, come on,” a voice tried to talk to him.

He could hear it, but he knew it wasn’t real. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard his brother’s voice, but the Joker  _ always _ drowned him out.

“Jason, please,” the voice said.

He started to feel hands on his shoulders, trying to push him back against the chair. He wanted to fight, wanted to get away, but the hands were determined.

“You’re going to hurt yourself, Jay.”

The hands left his shoulders, moving to his fingers--which were now wrapped in his hair.

“Please, Jason,” the voice sounded sad. “Please, let go, come on, man.”

The hands were calloused, cold, gently untangling his fingers from his curls. He couldn’t fight anymore. He didn’t have it in him, so he let the hands work his fingers out of his hair.

“Jay, can you hear me?”

Jason tensed, his hands getting ready to fly back to his head, but the cold hands were still holding them. 

The laugh had gone away. So had the ghost pains. All that was left was the beeping--Dick was alive.

Keeping his eyes closed, but not as tightly shut, Jason nodded, feeling the cold hands--Tim--rubbing circles with his thumb into his wrists.

“You back?” 

Slowly, he opened his eyes. He focused on the shallow rise and fall of Dick’s chest, then on the tired eyes of Tim.

“I’m fine,” he pulled his hands away from him and stubbornly sat back in his chair.

Tim’s expression hardened, obviously upset at his brother’s reaction. 

Jason sighed and shifted a bit. “Sorry. Thanks.”

He shrugged. “I was, uh, just hoping to talk real quick, but…” he trailed off. Jason noticed how Tim avoided looking at Dick.

“Sorry,” he mumbled again.

“It’s okay, Jay,” Tim gave him a weak smile. His eyes slid over to Dick, but he quickly averted his gaze. “I, uh,” he cleared his throat.

“Spit it out, T,” Jason huffed.

“I’m gonna leave,” he paused, “for a bit.”

“What?” Jason sat forward. “T, what the fuck do you mean?”

Tim closed his eyes and bit his bottom lip. From the way he was starting to march in place, Jason knew he’d be bouncing his leg if he were sitting.

“I can’t stay,” Tim rubbed his hands together then promptly folded his arms over his chest to keep himself from fiddling. “I can’t stay in Gotham right now.” He once again quickly glanced at Dick. “I know he’s safe. But with what happened?” He scoffed, trying to hide the fact that he was shaking. “It just…”

Jason relaxed. He wasn’t happy about the idea of Tim just running away, but he understood why. He probably would have done the same thing at his age--if he’d been alive.

Tim seemed to read that from his posture because he, too, relaxed. “I just wanted to let you know.”

“You gonna tell me where you’re going, or do I not get to know that?” Jason raised an eyebrow.

“Smallville,” Tim responded quickly, like he was ripping off a bandaid.

“Oh,” Jason smirked.

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a child, Jason. I just,” he started worrying his bottom lip again. “I just need a friendly face.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s a  _ friendly _ face.”

Tim huffed. “There’s no winning here, is there?”

“Nope.”

“Figures,” Tim said under his breath. He started tapping his foot. “And, uh, Jay?”

“Yeah?” Jason could tell there was more bothering him. 

“Could you  _ not _ tell B?”

“That you’re going to Smallville or that you’re staying with Superboy specifically?”

“Both,” he whispered, hand tightening around his bicep.

“Only if you promise to bring me back a piece of Ma Kent’s pie. I hear it’s to die for.”

Even if it was faint, Tim finally smiled. “Thanks, Jay.”

“Don’t mention it.”

He was about to walk away, but he paused, turning back to Jason. “And call me if anything changes,” he finally looked at Dick, an odd tension covering his face. “Let me know when he wakes up.”

“Of course, T.”

With one last nod, Tim turned around and headed out of the med bay. Jason picked the washcloth back up and resumed cleaning the dried blood and dirt off Dick. He could hear the sound of Tim’s motorcycle starting up and the Cave door sliding open.


	10. Chapter 10

DAMIAN

“Go be a heartless demon somewhere else. You’re just in the way!”

Jason had fallen asleep in a chair next to Dick’s bedside. Damian momentarily considered stabbing him--the insult from hours prior still echoing in his mind. Instead, he decided to pretend he wasn’t even there, saving revenge for later.

He’d been standing next to Dick for a few minutes, not moving or saying anything. The only sounds in the medbay were Jason’s light snoring and the beep of the monitors. There were a couple moments when Damian thought about placing his hand on top of his brother’s, but something made him stop each time.

He wasn’t sure if it was the thought that Jason could wake up at any time or that he was afraid he’d hurt Dick, but either way, he just stood next to the bed, staring intently at his brother’s bruised face.

He remembered thinking when they’d brought him home, even broken and unconscious, Dick still claimed the room. Damian had heard people say before how injured people seemed to appear small in hospital beds, but not his brother. After getting patched up and cleaned, he looked less broken, but never small--he seemed to be the brightest thing in the room. Dick always managed to be the center of attention.

Any other time, it would have annoyed Damian, but watching him breathe--even shallowly--and hearing the steady beat of the heart monitor just reminded him that Dick was alive.

They’d saved him, just like they said they would.

Taking a deep breath, Damian finally turned around to grab another chair and sit on the opposite side of the bed, facing Jason.

Though he was still upset at his earlier comment, Damian had to give him credit for beating the shit out of the copycat Joker. If he hadn’t handled the clown, they wouldn’t have gotten Dick out. And if he hadn’t shot the man--

Damian didn’t want to think about what he would have done to Tim. Though he hadn’t actually  _ seen _ Tim since he left the Cave to sulk in his room following Jason’s insult. Jason had yelled something similar at him, too, but Damian had already stormed out before registering it.

He was sure Tim was somewhere about the manor, either passed out or pouring himself into a task as to avoid dealing with emotions. He didn’t care--they’d all cope with the experience in their own ways. But Damian did secretly wish they could at least attempt to stay together.

He’d never admit it, but he was afraid of what Tim would do. He’d almost lost him in the alley, and then had to watch as that creep started touching him. If he hadn’t already been contemplating murdering him for hurting Dick, he would have thought about it just for that.

Just as he thought about going to find Tim and check up on him--in his own Damian Way with insults and snide comments--Damian heard Jason snort and jolt up from his nap.

He stayed silent as his brother quickly looked around the room, reaching for his thigh holster though it wasn’t there. It was a habit Damian had noticed over the past few years whenever he was around the manor. They all had a similar tick, but Jason’s was the most obvious.

After recognizing where he was and not finding any immediate threat, Jason’s eyes landed on Damian--the latter observation changing slightly.

Damian glared at him, but didn’t say anything.

“What? Did you draw something on my face?” Jason finally asked.

“No, I’m not  _ immature _ like you, Todd.”

He scoffed. “Hey, the only thing keeping me from drawing on Dick’s face is that it’s already so fucked up.” He tried to laugh, but his gaze lingered on Dick’s “fucked up” face. “That, and B would make me wash it off.” He cleared his throat, still trying to lighten up the tension.

“Tt,” Damian rolled his eyes, scooting closer to the bed. “You’re truly a menace.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“Yeah, me too,” Damian grumbled. He hadn’t intended on Jason hearing him, but his brother quickly looked away.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Damian’s focus not leaving Dick. He hoped to wait out Jason--hoped the older boy would give up first and leave.

But after a bit more silence, he finally spoke.

“Listen, Little D-”

“Do  _ not _ call me that,” Damian growled.

Jason smiled, then frowned again. “I just wanted to say sorry for earlier.”

Damian didn’t look at him.

“It was mean and I was speaking out of anger,” he, too, didn’t look at his brother as he spoke. “Don’t get me wrong, you  _ are _ a demon, but you’re definitely not heartless.”

“Why do you think I care what your opinion of me is?” Damian finally shot him a glare. 

Jason smirked. “Oh, you may  _ act _ it, but I know the truth.” He looked at their brother, lying between them. Damian followed his gaze. Nothing about Dick had changed since they’d gotten him home and patched up. “You’re not heartless.”

BRUCE

Everything was quiet. The manor moreso than the Cave, where there was a constant hum of electricity with the added faint beeps of monitors in use in the medbay. That room in particular was the current loudest place in either space, which was saying something.

Bruce had tried sleeping--mostly due to Alfred insisting after he’d spent ten minutes staring blankly into the sink where Dick’s blood had been washed from his hands--but he only tossed and turned. He heard soft footsteps outside his door three times.

The first were intentionally quiet--meant to not be heard. He guessed it was Tim. 

The second time, they were gentle steps of Alfred. Bruce would know his footsteps anywhere.

The third were swift, purposeful, soft due only to the fact that they belonged to someone small: Damian.

When sleep wouldn’t come to him, he decided to go through files to find some loose end on other missions to tie off. He couldn’t find any--Batman didn’t leave cases unfinished. He checked his phone for any reports.

One quick alert to the Commissioner and the warehouse had been cleaned up after Robin and Red Robin had left the scene. Jim had sent him a text that just read “ALL CLEAR. SEND MY BEST.” The copycat gang had been taken care of.

There was still a feeling of unrest settling inside him, so he finally gave up avoiding Alfred’s nagging and left his room. 

The manor was silent. Bruce figured everyone else was asleep--or pretending to be as he had been--given the hour and level of exhaustion. 

He walked past Jason’s room, knowing it would be empty for a while. He’d stayed with his brother, determined to help in any way possible: which meant he was finishing cleaning up Dick. Bruce would have done it, or Alfred, but Jason had asked and there’d been a look of something like desperation in his eyes that kept him from arguing.

Damian’s door was left open, but Bruce didn’t see him inside. He wasn’t surprised. Damian wouldn’t admit it, but he admired Dick and seeing him hurt like that had torn him apart. He figured he was with his brothers.

Tim’s door was shut, but since Bruce had heard him walk past earlier and never came back, it caught his attention. He cracked the door open to find that the room was empty. There’d clearly been something sitting on his bed, and his jacket had been taken off the hook it always sat on. 

That made Bruce narrow his eyebrows. Tim rarely snuck out, and even when he did, he would usually leave some sort of message to let the others know he was okay. Bruce knew he hadn’t received any messages since Jim, but he checked his phone anyway.

The only time Tim didn’t tell him where he was going was when he went to the Kent’s farm. Bruce still hadn’t completely figured out why he didn’t tell him--he had a hunch but it wasn’t something he was going to bring up until Tim did. 

He wasn’t in the habit of messaging his sons’ friends, though he  _ did _ have the ability to do so as well as track any and all of them, so he text Clark instead, simply asking him to keep an eye out for any trouble headed West.

Dick’s room was also empty--his bag sitting almost full on his bed. He’d only been at the manor for a day before they’d gone on the mission. It made his stomach churn. He’d asked Dick to come help and then hadn’t been able to prevent him from getting captured. Then, it’d taken too many days to save him.

He took a deep breath, shutting the door to Dick’s room.

His son was safe--all of them were--yet there was still this feeling in the back of his head making him anxious.

Bruce _ hated _ anxiety. It was something they all suffered from, though it was becoming more obvious in Tim. It made Bruce feel out of control, and if he didn’t have control, what did he have?

_ “You have us, B,” _ Dick had told him once after a particularly heated argument.  _ “You have me and Jay and Alfred! Why aren’t we enough for you?” _

It’d been soon after that they’d lost Jason.

Bruce had pushed Dick away and had made unwise choices bringing Tim into the field so soon after. He’d made a lot of mistakes. Ones he could never change, but he could do better in telling his sons how much he cared.

It wasn’t that he didn’t care, it just wasn’t something he was good at. It wasn’t something he ever saw as necessary. Alfred had always expressed how much he cared for him growing up, and he knew that Bruce felt the same, so it didn’t come up in conversation.

He assumed the same with his boys. When he’d lost Jason, he was so overcome with grief, he hadn’t thought of what the boy must have thought of him. It was only when he came back that he stopped to think about it.

This time, the thought crossed his mind. What if Dick had died not knowing how much he was loved? What if he never got the chance to tell his oldest how much he meant to him?

He’d messed up with Jason, but was lucky enough to not only get a second chance, but have a son who let him have it. And he hadn’t lost Dick. He was going to recover. 

Bruce had absentmindedly walked into the kitchen. A mug had been left on the counter along with a half eaten sandwich. He sighed, setting the cup into the sink and tossing the food into the garbage, saving one of his sons from a stern lecture from Alfred in the morning.

He finally decided to go down to the Bat Cave. He couldn’t quite figure out why he was avoiding it. Dick had been injured numerous times--he had a habit of getting in over his head and smarting off to the wrong person--but this time, it’d been Bruce’s fault. He’d underestimated the gang and asked Dick to help. They weren’t expecting much, and his son got tortured because of it.

Tim’s motorcycle was missing from the lineup of vehicles, confirming Bruce’s suspicion. Jason would have noticed, so there was a good chance he knew, too. 

He stopped at the entrance of the medbay, quietly opening the door. Though the room was louder than the rest of the house, the only sounds were those of the monitors and Jason’s soft snore. Bruce smiled, seeing him and Damian on either side of Dick’s bed.

Damian leaned half out of his chair, resting his head in his folded arms on the side of the bed. His bottom hand reaching out from under his opposite elbow to be at his brother’s hand. His fingers were under Dick’s, probably to avoid the IV on top.

Jason’s chair sat close to the head of the bed. He favored the left armrest, making himself closer to his brother. He’d fallen asleep with his arms crossed across his chest, head tilted back in what looked like an uncomfortable position. Even so, Bruce knew it was going to be the best sleep his son had had in awhile.

All the dried blood had been cleaned off Dick’s arms, face, and chest, making the stitches and wrapped gauze stand out more against his skin. If he hadn’t seen the room he’d been tortured in, Bruce could’ve convinced himself he’d just been in a bad fight. He was on enough pain killers to keep him at peace in sleep, taking away the way he’d groaned and whimpered every time they moved him.

Dick always looked small to him. He was his first son, and a part of Bruce would still see him as the tiny acrobat lost in tragedy from time to time. This was one of those times. But the little boy hadn’t just lost his family.

His family had just gotten him back.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me a bit to update! I was on a road trip.   
> Here's some other characters in this chapter!

JASON

When Jason woke up, Damian had already left the room. He assumed Bruce had forced him to go to school again. He hoped he wouldn’t have to go on pick up duty this time. And if Bruce had told Damian to go to school, that meant Bruce was probably going to be working on WE business all day.

Jason quickly flipped out his phone and sent a quick text: CITY LIMITS. 30 MINUTES. CASUAL.

He took one last look at Dick--still asleep, unbothered by the physical trauma while painkillers and sedatives still owned his body--before leaving the medbay and heading for the manor’s garage.

Any other day he’d steal one of Bruce’s expensive cars, but he didn’t want to draw his attention. He wasn’t sure Bruce would even be mad, given the circumstances, but Jason decided he didn’t want to chance it, so he just jumped into his own car.

The drive to the edge of Gotham City didn’t take half an hour, and neither did the speedster take the thirty minutes to get there.

Jason spotted Wally West pacing in the grass on the other side of the bridge, skid marks on the pavement a few feet away.

He pulled over and unlocked the door. Wally didn’t hesitate to jump in, and then they took off.

His leg started bouncing, just like Tim’s always did. Jason took a deep breath. He wasn’t close to Wally, but he wanted to do this for Dick. He’d owe him  _ big _ time once he was on his feet again.

After a few minutes of silence, Wally finally cleared his throat. 

“Uh, hey, thanks,” he stumbled over his words. “I mean, thanks for telling me. Y’know, when it happened.” He dropped his head, looking down at his feet, one foot still tapping furiously. “I wish I, I mean, if I’d been able to help-”

“B wouldn’t have allowed it,” Jason grumbled. Both the boys knew that, but it didn’t make Wally feel any less useless.

“I know that,” his shoulders slumped. Then, he looked over at Jason. “Then why are you bringing me to his house  _ now _ ?”

“Do you  _ not _ want to see Dick?” Jason raised an eyebrow, momentarily taking his eyes off the road. Ever since his drive with Damian, he’d been feeling a little bit more cautious behind the wheel. Just a little.

“No no, I do, but,” he sighed. “What if he wouldn’t want to see me?” The question seemed to be more to himself, but Jason rolled his eyes.

“Well, first of all, he’s still out. So he won’t even know until you’re already gone.”

“Okay, but like,” he huffed. He scrunched up his nose, trying to find his words. “After  _ us _ ? I just feel bad-”

“Listen, man. You’re still his best friend,” Jason didn’t know why he had to explain. “Sure you kinda ‘dated’,” he used his free hand to make air quotes. He’d never really understood their relationship and didn’t bother to ask. “But he’d do anything for you. He cares about you, and from what I can tell, you care about him.”

A quick smile passed on Wally’s lips. 

“So, I let you know he was missing. And now that we’ve found him, I’m sneaking you into the Cave to see him, so, get over it.”

Wally didn’t respond, but Jason heard him sigh from the passenger seat.

When they got to the manor, there was still no sign of Bruce or Damian. Alfred was probably somewhere, cleaning or reading or complaining. Neither spoke as they made their way down to the Bat Cave.

None of the family were down there either. Jason had been sure he’d picked the right time, but it was still reassuring to find evidence he was right. 

He opened the medbay door, finding Dick right where he’d left him. Nothing had changed: the monitors showed he was still stable, his condition unchanging since Bruce had sedated him.

A brief memory of having to hold down his brother passed through Jason’s mind. He shook it away, making himself focus on watching Wally slowly walk over to Dick’s bedside. 

It was strange to see--the speedster taking hesitant, gentle steps, as if his footsteps would somehow wake him. Even unsedated, Wally’s light feet wouldn’t have woken him. Jason rolled his eyes and plopped down in the same chair he’d slept in. 

Wally stood on the other side of the bed, fists clenched at his sides. He was keeping himself still--Jason wondered if he was trying to keep himself from running away or from reaching out and taking Dick’s hand in his.

He continued to stare at him, tears starting to well in his eyes. Once one of the tears rolled down his cheek, he finally moved, wiping his face with a sleeve pulled over his hand. He took a step back and pulled the other chair closer to the bed.

“I-” Wally tried to speak, but no words came out. 

If Dick had been awake, he  _ definitely _ would have made a comment about Wally being speechless. But since he wasn’t, Jason decided he’d pick up the slack.

“I’ve never heard one of you guys  _ not _ run your mouth.”

Wally shot him a quick dirty look, but his expression softened as he realized the pun. “Ha ha,” he laughed. “Who knew a bad sense of humor wasn’t genetic?”

Jason shook his head, but didn’t say anything else as Wally finally got the courage to gently take Dick’s hand. He watched as he softly ran his thumb over Dick’s knuckles. 

“I don’t even want to think about what he looked like when you found him,” Wally said quietly. “I can’t even  _ imagine _ -” he squeezed his eyes shut, bringing Dick’s hand towards his face. “What would I have done? If he-”

“He’s had worse,” Jason cut him off. It made it easier to believe he’d pull through if he kept reminding himself that Dick had had worse injuries. Had been closer to death. It didn’t make it easier though to think of  _ who _ did this to him.

“That’s for damn sure,” Wally widened his eyes as memories filled his brain. He shook his head.

“He’ll be okay,” Jason whispered. He kept saying that out loud. Partially so the others would believe it. And also so he’d remember.

“I know he will be.” Wally smiled at him. “I’m sure he’s got more puns to make.”

DAMIAN

Alfred hadn’t even stopped the car before Damian was throwing the door open and lunging out of his seat. He didn’t look when he tossed his bag towards the small table at the entrance. 

He’d suffered through his classes like his father had asked, and now he just wanted to check up on Dick. He raced through the manor, making quick work of the Cave entrance, and leaped down the steps toward the medbay.

He expected Jason to still be there--possibly still asleep given his sleeping habits--but was shocked to see someone else at the bedside.

Barbara Gordon’s wheelchair sat near to Dick, and she had her nose in a book. Damian couldn’t read the title, but recognized it as one of Jason’s favorites. Her eyes flew across the pages, reading faster than anyone else he’d ever met. 

“Why are you here?” Damian crossed his arms, not moving forward.

She briefly looked up over her glasses, raising an eyebrow, “I’m allowed?”

“Tt,” he finally moved over to the chair he’d slept in and sat down. The chair was warm--someone else had been there while he was gone. 

“Has anything changed?”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, staring at Damian with a blank gaze. Barbara was really good at hiding her emotions on her face, so it was difficult for him to infer Dick’s condition from her expression, but then she sighed.

“Nothing’s changed, Dami,” she looked over at Dick. “Not since I’ve been here.”

He scrunched up his face at the nickname. He only allowed Dick to call him that, but he didn’t want to muster up the energy to argue.

Barbara went back to reading. Damian huffed, annoyed that she hadn’t said anything else. He knew she and Dick were on good terms--still friends and she often helped out on missions as Oracle--but he’d wished someone had told him she would be here.

More importantly, he was frustrated that Jason  _ wasn’t _ there. He’d said he would keep an eye on Dick if Damian wasn’t there. He knew Jason wouldn’t let anything happen to him, but he wasn’t present.

Since Barbara was ignoring him anyway, he left the room momentarily to see where Jason had gone. He noticed Tim’s bike was missing, which explained why he hadn’t seen him since they’d gotten Dick home. 

It bothered Damian, partially because Tim should have  _ stayed _ with them--with Dick--and made sure he was okay. It was also because he’d seen his brother lose his focus over the last week. It scared him, thinking about what kind of trouble would find him. But if Bruce hadn’t dragged him back home, then he was probably okay.

Jason hadn’t left on any of the vehicles in the Cave, and Damian had run so quickly through the garage, he hadn’t noticed if anything was out of place up there. 

Just as he was about to run upstairs to check for Jason’s car, he heard Barbara’s voice in the medbay. Though muffled, he could clearly understand that she was talking  _ to _ someone.

He ran back to the door, ripping it open. He stopped in his tracks as he saw Dick starting to stir in the bed. He whimpered, eyes tightly shut and legs trying to kick off the blanket tucked around him. The heart monitor started to beep faster. He was having a nightmare.

“Dick? Richard, wake up,” Barbara reached out, taking Dick’s hand. She’d barely touched him, but he reacted quickly, snatching his hand away and groaning in pain at the action.

Damian didn’t even let himself think before moving to his side. He barely made it to the edge of the bed before watching as Dick’s muscles tensed and eyes snapped open.

He looked around frantically, not sure of where he was, as if he were still dreaming. He started to push himself up, but Barbara grabbed his arm, trying to hold him down. He started to cough violently, body shaking with each cough. From the look on his face, Damian could tell all the movement was hurting him.

“Dick, hey, it’s okay- you’re okay,” Barbara’s voice was calm, but her composure was cracking. She shot a frantic look at him.

After the initial shock of seeing Dick awake wore off, Damian quickly jumped into action. Because of the angle of her wheelchair and the ferocity of Dick’s panicked jumps, Barbara was having a difficult time trying to keep him still.

Damian tried to be gentle, setting his hand on his brother’s shoulder and softly pushing down, but he was freaking out and starting to push back.

“Dick,” Damian tried pushing him down harder but was shoved away instead.

“No! Stop!” 

“Richard, you need to calm down!” 

As Damian regained his footing and once again attempted to get his brother to lay back down, Dick turned over and grabbed Barbara’s arm. His hand was tight around her arm, his eyes were filled with tears. It took him a moment, but some sort of recognition washed over him. His grip loosened ever so slightly, but was still firm, keeping her near.

Dick’s eyes flickered all over her face, trying to decipher  _ something _ , but when he couldn’t find it he just cried out. 

“Barb- Babs- I-  _ where _ -” he cut himself off with a cry of pain. He collapsed forward, losing his grip on her arm. His whole body shook as he started sobbing.

Damian was frozen in place. Whatever was happening, he was certain Dick wasn’t in control of himself. Whether he was dreaming or just delirious, he wasn’t sure. Either way, it pulled at something inside of him to see his brother like this.

“I’m here, Dick, I’m here,” Barbara had slipped back into her calm exterior, trying to soothe him. She gently rubbed her hand over his shoulder. “It’s okay.”

Dick suddenly gasped, sitting up and frantically looking around the room again. Damian wasn’t sure if he’d even noticed him standing there, but he grabbed Barbara’s arm again, looking panicked.

“T- Tim? Where is he? Where’s Tim?” He started to pull her closer, lifting her slightly out of her seat. She quickly nudged the controller forward, bringing the wheelchair closer to the bed so that she was sitting firmly once again. She wouldn’t be able to move any farther forward.

“He’s not here-”

“ _ Where _ is he?” Dick pleaded, his muscles tensing again. “Where is he? What- what happened? They- Oh god,” he choked back a sob, dropping back down onto his elbow. “They got him- they said they’d- oh  _ god _ -”

Dick started to push himself up again, this time trying to get off the bed.

“Whoa, hey, no, stay down, Dick-” Barbara held his arm down and Damian grabbed his shoulder again.

“They got Tim! They’re going to- oh fuck- they said they would-” he was breathing heavily, not able to finish his sentences. 

His breaths started to get shorter--the monitor beeps were starting to scare Damian.

“I can’t let them  _ touch _ him-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!”

Damian quickly turned to see Jason running back into the room with Alfred on his heels.

“Jay, where is Tim? What did they do-”

As soon as Dick let go of Barbara, she moved her wheelchair back, letting Jason take her place. Dick reached up, grabbing him by the shoulders, tears still running down his face.

“Dick, Tim’s okay, I promise, okay?” Jason’s voice was soft, comforting. It wasn’t a tone Damian had ever heard from him before. He’d heard him upset, hesitant, scared even, but this was different. He sounded like Dick. “He’s with Conner, okay?”

“Wh- what?”

“Tim is safe, Dick. I promise,” Jason wrapped his arms around Dick’s waist, easing his hands off his shoulders. He looked over at Alfred, who already had a syringe of a minor sedative ready to go, and nodded. “You’re okay and so is he, okay?”

Dick followed his gaze and watched as Alfred got ready to give him the sedative. He tensed up, but Jason kept his composure and tightened his hold.

“Jay?”

“Everything’s okay, Dick. I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you or Tim or Damian, okay?”

Dick finally looked at his youngest brother, his face still wet with tears. It shook Damian to the core to see him look like that, but he looked back to Jason and nodded.

“Okay?” Jason repeated sternly.

“‘Kay,” Dick mumbled.

“We don’t want you hurting yourself, Master Richard,” Alfred gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “You need rest.”

Dick nodded again, closing his eyes as the medication entered his bloodstream, starting to lull him to sleep again. Jason laid him down and sighed, his shoulders slumping and a choked cry escaping his lips.


	12. Chapter 12

TIM

Something on the nightstand next to the bed made an ugly sound--a loud ugly sound that woke Tim up from the best sleep he’d had in weeks. It took a second for him to realize it was his phone vibrating. When the groggy feeling wore away, Tim groaned.

The phone had stopped going off, but he was awake now, trying to pretend like he hadn’t heard it at all.

Turning onto his side, he felt the coolness of the sheets next to him. He’d practically blackmailed Conner into going to school that morning. 

Tim had only been in Smallville for a couple days. He’d ditched his motorcycle at one of Jason’s safehouses right on the edge of Gotham where he met up with Conner who then flew them back to the farm.

He’d felt a little bad about asking to stay over after ignoring his boyfriend’s calls and texts while they were searching for Dick, but Conner was quick to forgive Tim given the situation. Even if he’d just been moody, Conner probably would have been quick to forgive him.

As soon as they had slipped in through the bedroom window, Tim had broken down. He’d worked so hard during the days Dick was missing to stay on task and be logical. But then they’d found him, beaten and bloody. And then he’d offered himself up in order to pull the thug away from his brother.

Tim hated crying, but when he was in the safety and familiarity of Conner’s arms, he’d let it all go. The weariness and fear tore down his defenses and he’d sobbed into his shoulder for what felt like hours--and Conner let him. He didn’t ask any questions or try to get him to stop. He just let him break.

Then, he told him what happened. Tim was sure that if he hadn’t been desperate to just sleep for days on end--and Jason hadn’t already beat the Joker wannabe half to death--Conner probably would have flown right back to Gotham then and there to finish the job.

Instead, he’d held Tim in his arms as he almost instantly passed out.

He slept well into the afternoon and only got out of bed to eat the dinner Ma Kent had brought him. The next day he made Conner go to school, telling him he’d just be sleeping all day again. And he did, until his phone started going off.

Tim  _ knew _ it was an update on Dick, but something inside him wouldn’t let him look. He told himself it was the sleepiness taking over--making himself too heavy and too weak to even roll over--and that was enough to keep him curled in the blankets.

While he was still trying to let sleep take him again, he heard the bedroom door creak open and then a weight plopped down on the bed next to him, sliding underneath the covers. A force pulled Tim closer to Conner, who wrapped his arms around him.

“I know you’re awake.”

“Hrm,” Tim grumbled, cuddling into Conner’s chest. “No, I’m not.”

Conner scoffed. “Okay, sure.”

They settled into a comfortable silence, but it was quickly interrupted by the phone going off again.

“Ugh,” Tim huffed, starting to turn over. He figured he should actually answer it this time, but Conner beat him to it, sitting up and reaching over him to grab the phone. 

Tim lazily looked up at him, noticing a confused look on his face. “Who is it?”

“Uh, not someone in your contacts, apparently.”

“Last four numbers.” Though his voice was laced with sleepiness, it still came out as an order.

“2727?”

“Barbara. Answer it.”

Conner gave him a look that told him he was confused but also impressed.

“Hello?”

_ “Conner?”  _ a voice came over. Though it wasn’t on speaker, the volume was up enough that Tim could hear it from where he was on the bed.

He looked down at Tim, who was already shifting back into a comfortable position to go back to sleep. “Uh, yeah? What’s up?”

_ “Where’s Tim?” _

Conner paused, but when Tim gave him a sleepy, pleading look, he answered, “He’s sleeping still.”

Tim’s face relaxed, but he could hear Barbara sigh on the line.

_ “I guess he really needs it. Jason says he wasn’t…” _

He noticed Conner quickly turning down the volume, as to keep Tim from eavesdropping.

“Yeah, well, he’s been resting well here,” Conner smiled at him, gently combing his free hand through his hair for a few seconds. 

“Yeah, of course, hold up,” he removed his fingers from the tangles and leapt out of bed. He flashed a quick smile at Tim, then left the room, letting the door softly close behind him.

It wasn’t fair Conner could overhear any conversation he was having whenever he wanted, but he could so easily keep Tim out of it. Tim decided he’d complain about that later, but he was too tired to argue about it or try to listen in anyway.

He wasn’t gone long, but Tim had drifted in and out in the few minutes Conner was on the phone with Barbara out in the hall.

“I’ll let him know,” Conner came back to the bed, sitting down so close to Tim he almost sat on his side. “Thanks for checking in... Yeah. Okay, I will. Bye.”

He set the phone down on the nightstand again, then pulled Tim back into his arms.

“Did he wake up?”

Conner didn’t respond, so Tim pulled away, tilting his head back to see him contemplating something. 

“Kon,” he pushed himself up on one elbow, now looking down at the Krytonian. 

He hesitated, but gave in. “Yeah, he woke up.” He paused. “But Barbara said they had to sedate him again.”

Tim scrunched his eyebrows together. “Did she say why?”

Conner’s face told him all he needed to know: of course she said why, but they both decided they shouldn’t tell Tim.

“Tell me anyway,” he huffed, sitting up fully, crossing his legs.

Joining Tim in sitting against the headboard, Conner opened his arms as if to invite him into his embrace. Though he was a little off put about him purposefully leaving him in the dark, he still leaned into his boyfriend.

They sat like that for a few minutes, but as the silence grew, so did Tim’s anxiety. When his foot started bouncing under his leg, Conner sighed.

“I just want you to be safe, Tim,” he said softly. “I want to know you’re feeling okay before you go back. Before you leave again.”

Tim pulled back just a bit so he could look him in the eye. He didn’t say anything, taking in the sincere expression on the face that so often held a smirk and playful gaze. Then, he laid his head back onto his chest.

“I don’t want to leave,” he mumbled. “But I know I have to at some point.”

When Conner didn’t respond, he continued. “I have to see him. Know he’s okay.”

The arms around him tightened ever so slightly.

“Barbara said he freaked out. Kept asking where you were.”

He felt his face scrunch up again. That didn’t make sense. “ _ Why _ would Dick freak out about me?”

It was meant to be an internal question, but Tim realized he’d asked it out loud when he heard Conner scoff.

“Uh, from what  _ you _ told me  _ and _ what Barbara said Jason told her?” he shook his head. “Like,  _ damn _ , the same reason I’m ready to go beat the shit out of some bastard gang members.”

Tim’s face softened. He’d thought about how Dick would react when he found out what Tim had done to save him, but he hadn’t thought about what sorts of things had been said to him before they’d arrived.

Then, Conner’s words from earlier made more sense. Tim was perceptive. He knew how to read people--knew how to pick up on social cues and facial expressions. But his boyfriend was also perceptive--at least of Tim. 

He knew that if Tim found out that Dick had freaked out, he’d feel guilty. That he’d want to leave immediately, even if he wasn’t mentally ready to go back home. 

It was true. Tim wanted to go back to the manor--run to his brother and see that he was okay. Though, Barbara had said they’d sedated him again, so Dick would be out anyway.

“I-- hmm,” he cut himself off, still trying to think.

“Barbara said someone would call if he woke up again,” Conner finally offered.

Tim looked up at him again. Conner  _ wanted _ him to stay, and Tim wanted that, too. So, he curled into his arms and started to pull them both down under the blankets again.

“Then, I’ll go home when he’s actually awake,” he whispered, knowing he’d hear even the softest voice. “I’ll stay until then.”

DICK

Everything was cold: the acid rain, the lightning, the ocean, the air in his lungs, the pistol under his chin.

Dick took in another sharp breath. The pain in his ribs and back burned as the laughter filled his ears. Hands he didn’t remember seeing started to pull at him--grabbing him in places he didn’t think it was humanly possible to touch. 

Breathing became more difficult as the laughs got higher in pitch--short staccato “ha’s” like beats too loud in his ear.

There were voices mocking him, talking about his brothers. They were fighting the waves alongside him now. Damian was angrily swimming towards him, but his full Robin gear kept him from moving. He was yelling, but Dick could barely hear him, but he was sure it was something rude. He tried to reach out, push him away--what if the hands grabbed him? He couldn’t yell out to warn him.

_ Where’s Bruce? Damian needs help! _

Tim fell straight from the sky and into the ocean, splashing Dick’s face as he tried to keep his head above water. He never looked at Dick, too preoccupied with the hands suddenly ripping away at his armor--the acid rain burning away his suit leaving him exposed and giving the hands more area to pull him down.

He reached out to him, but just as Tim went under, another hand planted itself onto Dick’s shoulder. He snapped his head to the other side, seeing Jason--the only one not in full gear--desperately pulling Dick towards him.

_ Grab Tim! Why can’t you see him? They took him! _

Dick couldn’t get the words to come out. He didn’t understand why none of their voices were working, but then Jason firmly grasped his other shoulder and made Dick look him in the eyes.

_ “Dick!” _ Jason yelled. 

_ How does your voice work? How are you talking? _

_ “Dick, wake up, please,” _ Jason pleaded with him, fingers starting to dig into his shoulders.

His brother’s hands didn’t feel the same way the others had. Jason wasn’t trying to pull him apart or down, he was just trying to make a connection. But why wasn’t he helping Damian and Tim? And  _ where _ was their dad?

Dick started to panic, the short laughs getting closer together, speeding up. He was going to drown and all his brothers would go down with him because he couldn’t get those damn hands off himself, let alone the others.

He must have managed to convey his worry somehow because he could hear Jason saying “They’re okay, Dick, I promise,” over the sound of cruel laughter. It didn’t make him comforted though. How could he say that? Did he not see them fighting the water? 

Though when he looked back to where Damian had been swimming in place, there was nothing there. His heart raced again. Had he gone under? Why hadn’t he been paying attention?

_ “Wake up, son.” _

Dick looked around for the voice. It wasn’t Jason’s, even though he was still holding onto him, staying above the surface of the water right next to him. He looked up, finally seeing Bruce above the ocean. He had both Damian and Tim hanging onto his left arm as he reached out for him and Jason with his right.

Afraid that if he took Bruce’s hand, he’d pull them all under, Dick hesitated. They couldn’t see the hands. There were so many of them, tearing at his skin, choking him and breaking his bones.

_ “Dick, you’re having a nightmare and your heart rate is too high.” _

Everything was cold, but they wouldn’t leave him.

_ “Is he coming to?” _

“Richard,  _ wake up _ .”

Dick sucked in a large breath, as if he hadn’t had air in his lungs in ages. His eyes flew open but burned against the harsh lights of the medbay. His body hurt and he felt dizzy. The lights were too bright, but he could finally make out Jason on his left, hand gripping his bicep, and Bruce standing next to him.

He started hyperventilating--the sound of the short laughs following him into the waking world. Looking around the room frantically, Dick realized the sound was simply the beeps from the heart monitor, which made him try to focus.

It was hard to get past the pain, but Dick had been trained to come down from a panic attack and to slow his heart rate, so once he was able to numb himself from the burning and soreness, he took deep breaths, closing his eyes once more, but keeping a death grip on Jason’s hand.

After a few minutes of silence--save the ever slowing beeps from the monitors--Dick relaxed into the bed. He opened his eyes and took in the room properly.

Jason had sat down, but was still on high alert next to him. He went to give his hand a reassuring squeeze, but was quickly reminded of his broken fingers.

Bruce was still standing next to Jason, his usual look of composure starting to crack around his eyes. He huffed, letting a faint smile fall onto his face. 

“You were having quite a dream there, chum,” he tried saying casually. Dick could easily hear the urgent tone in Bruce’s voice. It was the voice he used when he was ordering them to report on a bad mission.

“And by that, he means you were fucking screaming,” Jason grumbled, pulling his hand away from Dick’s.

Dick looked at his brother, who quickly dropped his gaze.

“I-” he scrunched his face, pain following every breath and movement. “Sorry.”

At the exact same time that Jason huffed, Damian scoffed from the foot of the bed. Dick finally turned his attention to his little brother, partial relief settling over him. He knew his face had softened exponentially when he watched Damian roll his eyes.

“Oh  _ please _ , you’re not going to start that, are you?” he folded his arms across his chest.

Alfred placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder, but he shrugged him off, finally moving closer to Dick’s side.

Bruce still had a look of urgency on his face--he wanted to know exactly what Dick had dreamt. He also would want a full recount of the torture. Dick knew he’d have to tell him eventually, but the faint feeling of panic from his dream started to creep back into his mind. Tim wasn’t there. 

As if reading his mind, Jason leaned forward again and placed his hand on Dick’s arm. “He’s safe, D. I promise.”

Dick saw Bruce quickly glance at Jason after his comment. Even with the fogginess in his brain, he could figure out that Jason didn’t want him to know where Tim was--which meant  _ Tim _ didn’t want Bruce to know. Either way, he probably already knew.

Jason looked at Bruce and opened his mouth to speak, but right as he did, a cell phone rang. Bruce quickly grabbed the phone out of his pocket and frowned at the number.

“I have to take this,” he paused, staring at Dick. “I’ll be right back.”

He turned around and left the room, Alfred watching him go.

Dick looked between him and his brothers and thanked God their butler was good at picking up on their needs.

“I’ll keep him busy,” Alfred winked at him before following Bruce out of the medbay. Before the door shut completely, he popped his head back in and smiled. “It’s good to see you awake, Master Richard.”

Dick couldn’t stop himself from smiling. Alfred always made him feel like everything was going to be okay.

But as soon as the door shut, he was turning all his attention to Jason.

“Where is he? Why isn’t he here? Did I do something?” Dick started to wonder what had happened since he’d passed out in the room with the gang. He only vaguely remembered hearing various voices and sounds and feeling bursts of pain, but he could have done anything--could have lashed out at his brothers. 

“Stop that, Grayson,” Damian sniped, sitting on the edge of a chair to his right. “I can  _ see _ you thinking. It’s painful to watch.”

“Don’t be rude, demon,” Jason retorted. “I’ll tell Alfred you have homework to do.”

Damian rolled his eyes, but leaned back in his seat.

“Tim’s with Conner, D,” he said. 

Dick raised an eyebrow. “Kent?”

“The one and only,” Jason waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Dick didn’t remember Tim ever mentioning his teammate in that way. The confusion must have shown on his face because Damian tutted next to him.

“How can you call yourself a detective, Grayson?” 

“ _ Damian _ ,” Jason warned.

“What? It’s not like Drake’s  _ subtle _ about it! Why he acts so cowardly to actually tell any of us, I don’t understand.”

“Wait,” Dick’s head was spinning. He was still worried, and he knew it wouldn’t vanish until he  _ saw _ Tim safe and sound with his own eyes, but all the new information was making his head spin. “I just want to know that he’s  _ okay _ .” He nodded his head, as if confirming to himself that’s what he wanted. “They kept saying-”

“Hey,” Jason nudged his arm lightly. “Tim’s probably  _ safer _ in Smallville than here. He’s also probably having a more enjoyable time.”

“Ugh,” Damian scrunched up his nose.

“But I can give him a call, and you can talk to him. How does that sound?”

Dick sighed. He knew Tim couldn’t just appear back home instantly, but hearing his voice would probably help a bit. He nodded his head, trying to stay focused. “Sounds good.”

Jason smiled, pulling out his phone. Dick relaxed against the pillow again, letting his eyes rest while the phone rang.


	13. Chapter 13

BRUCE

Bruce was a great detective, and everyone was perfectly aware of that, but being the world’s current greatest detective wasn’t why he always knew what went on at Wayne Manor. That was because he was raised by Alfred Pennyworth, who always knew  _ everything _ that went on at Wayne Manor.

So even though he’d begrudgingly gone to WE meetings the previous two days, he knew who’d been in and out of the house, when they’d left, and was fairly certain of where they’d gone. He decided, given the circumstances, he wouldn’t mention any of that to his sons.

When he’d finally gotten a chance to break free of board meetings, Bruce refused all other appointments people tried to make. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the others to take care of Dick or call if something happened, but he still had to need to watch over him with his own eyes--needed to be reminded that he was safe, that he was  _ really _ there.

He sped home but tried to pace himself as he made his way through the kitchen on the way to the Cave. Pausing only briefly to pour himself a cup of coffee, and with one sip to confirm Tim was in fact back at the manor, Bruce quickly made his way downstairs.

Red Robin’s motorcycle was back in its spot, along with a small pastry box on the seat. There were overlapping voices being muffled from the medbay walls, though Bruce guessed at least three of his sons were present as the voices consistently got louder as they talked over each other.

It was the ring of his eldest’s laughter that made him pause. The first evening he’d gotten home, Alfred had had to give Dick another sedative. He’d reopened a handful of his wounds after a nightmare and panic attack. 

Last night, Dick was still awake when he’d arrived, but Bruce could tell he was fighting his own weariness to stay conscious. He was quick to pass out once Bruce gave him permission. Though he hated that his son would think he couldn’t rest until he’d given him the OK, he was grateful it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep.

Bruce didn’t smile--he seldom did--but he did smirk a bit before hearing Dick groan in pain. He swung the door open, and silence fell over the room besides a small huff from Jason.

“Are you alright?” Bruce narrowed his eyes, trying to deduce what was wrong.

Dick cleared his throat, trying to cover up the weak cough he’d developed any time he moved, and then rolled his eyes. “I’m fine, B. Blame Jay for being dumb.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, D,  _ I  _ was only commenting on your lack of observation skills,” Jason planted a hand over his heart, as if he were offended, turning his gaze to Tim, who then elbowed him in the gut. 

“Tim,” Bruce acknowledged him. 

Tim looked briefly at him, then dropped his gaze. “Hey, Bruce.”

Bruce tried to soften his expression, but he knew it wouldn’t change Tim’s reaction to his next request. “We need to discuss your absence.”

As he’d expected, Tim looked at him with something between annoyance and nervousness. Bruce knew Tim believed he was upset he’d left without any warning and during a time when they all needed to be together, even though that wasn’t the case, but he didn’t want to discuss his worries in front of the other two.

Tim nodded once, standing up from his chair and giving a weak smile to his brother. “I’m glad you’re safe, Dick.” He gently squeezed his wrist, careful not to cause him pain, then quietly exited the room.

Just as Bruce was turning around to follow him, Dick cleared his throat. He looked back, raising an eyebrow only to see a concerned look on his son’s face.

“Be easy on him, B,” Dick said softly.

“What did he tell you?” Bruce looked between him and Jason.

He figured he’d gotten what the boys called his “Batman Scowl” on his face because Dick’s concern had turned to annoyance.

“He was scared. It happens.”

“He hasn’t,” Jason replied at the same time, making direct eye contact with Bruce.

Dick added confusion to his eyes, looking now at Jason. 

Bruce nodded and left the room. He hoped Jason wouldn’t give in to Dick’s pleading--he wouldn’t be happy about being out of the loop--but if Tim hadn’t told his brother what he’d done to save him, he wasn’t going to tell him.

The door shut behind him, muffling the already quiet argument between his boys. He saw Tim sitting at the Bat Computer, idly twirling a pen over his knuckles. Even when Bruce made his presence known, he didn’t flinch or drop the pen.

“Tim-”

“Listen, I know what I did was stupid and poorly executed.  _ And _ I know that running away was cowardly and that I essentially betrayed our family values by doing so,” Tim looked Bruce in the eyes, but he wasn’t focused on him. Not once did he stutter twirling the pen. “I made everything worse then didn’t even stick around to deal with the consequences, but I’m here now. So if you want to lecture me, go ahead.”

Bruce hesitated, unsure what was the best thing to say. He knew the correct way to respond--and also the Batman way to respond--but he needed Tim to know he wasn’t upset with him, that he was worried.

In the silence, Tim continued twirling the pen, but kept it close to him. His leg began bouncing.

“Tim, I’m not-” Bruce grunted, trying to make his voice less gruff. Tim raised his head again, lifting an eyebrow in curiosity. With a sigh, Bruce knelt down in front of his son. “I’m not  _ mad  _ at you-”

Groaning, Tim threw himself back against the chair. “Don’t make this longer than it needs to be, please. What  _ are _ you then? Frustrated? Disappointed?”

“I’m not disappointed, Tim!” Bruce realized there was no good way to convince his son, but he wasn’t going to back away this time. “I’m not disappointed about  _ anything _ .” Bruce paused a moment, hoping Tim understood.

“Oh, no, we are  _ not _ having this conversation right now.” Tim started to get up, but Bruce stood up and blocked his exit. He huffed, dropping back into the chair. “Please, just get back to whatever you were originally going to say-”

“Does Clark know?”

Tim’s eyes widened in horror, but he quickly composed himself. “Does Clark know  _ what _ ?”

“So no, then.”

“Bruce, what do you want?”

“I want you to know that I’m not upset with you, Tim,” he dropped his hand onto Tim’s shoulder. When the boy flinched, he quickly let go. “I’m… concerned about you.”

Tim groaned again. “Look, I already told you I knew it was stupid, but it wasn’t like anyone else had a brilliant idea to get that creep away from Dick. And yeah, maybe I wasn’t in the clearest mental state when I made the decision but-”

“I’m more worried about  _ that _ part than the action itself, Tim.”

He stopped, trying to process what his father was saying.

After a long breath, Bruce squatted down again, looking up at his son. “What you did  _ saved _ your brother. Not only that, but you knew  _ only _ you could do it. You trusted that Jason would take the next step  _ and _ you kept Damian out of harm's way. You did something I couldn’t do, and something I’d  _ never _ ask you to do again.”

Tim started to bite at his bottom lip.

“And you’re right,” Bruce stood back up. “That guy  _ was _ a creep.” He offered his hand to Tim to pull him out of the chair. Tim hesitated, but took his hand. Bruce was careful as he placed both hands on his shoulders. “I’ll admit, my focus has been on Dick, but I want to know  _ you’re _ okay, as well, Tim.”

Tim looked up, trying to keep his expression neutral, but Bruce could see a bit of hope in his eyes. After a moment, he finally gave him a small smile. “I’m okay, B.”

Bruce returned the smile. “I’m glad to hear it. Now, you can decide when you want to tell Dick about how you saved him, and also when you want to discuss Smallville.”

JASON

“What hasn’t he told me?” Dick knitted together his eyebrows.

Damian had been right--it  _ was _ painful to watch the wheels turning in their brother’s head. Jason could tell Dick was trying to remember every detail of his conversation with Tim and decide if he’d missed something or simply forgotten.

“ _ You _ said he was with Conner, and  _ he  _ said he was with Conner, and you both all but  _ explicitly _ said they were dating,” his eyes widened. Jason had to laugh at that. It was amusing that he hadn’t figured it out like the rest of them.

“What?” He quickly looked at Jason, causing him to wince.

Jason sighed. “Listen, D, it’s not my place to tell you Tim’s business.”

“Oh, like that’s ever stopped you before?” He rolled his eyes.

Dick was starting to act more like himself. He’d regained his wit and charm--using both to easily cover up any pain he was in. It frustrated Jason. He wished he could just shake his brother and tell him he didn’t have to act tough, but that probably wasn’t a good idea. It would also be incredibly hypocritical of him.

“I’ll dish on Timmy’s love life and self destructive habits any day,” he scoffed. “But this,” he paused, seeing the hurt look on Dick’s face. “I can’t, D.”

He groaned. “Fine, don’t tell me. It’s not like everyone else is also walking on tiptoes around me,” Dick mumbled. “It’s like you’re all keeping secrets from me.” He slouched back onto the pillows, grimacing with the contact to the gashes on his back. 

“I guess I just  _ really _ fucked up, didn’t I?”

Jason raised an eyebrow. Before he could respond, Dick kept talking.

“You used to trust me. All of you. But,” he scoffed, throwing his hands down at his sides. The movement made him jump, causing more spikes of pain to jolt through him. He whined before continuing. “I did something stupid and now you’re all withholding,” he grumbled.

Jason just shook his head. It would be easy to argue with Dick--and it took quite a bit of self restraint not to--but it wasn’t worth it. 

He tried to shift around to get comfortable again, but each time he moved, Dick couldn’t stop himself from making pained noises.

Finally standing up, Jason huffed, gently sliding his hand under his brother’s head and fixing the pillow that had started to scoot down. 

“No one’s upset with you, Dickface,” he said as he sat back down. “If anything, B is pissed those motherfuckers kept pulling fast ones on us.”

Without moving his head much, Dick looked at him, slightly confused.

“They kept setting off trackers in various places,” Jason felt himself getting angry. “It was such bullshit. Joker wannabes were fucking with us.” He clenched his fists. “They knew their shit, D.”

Dick didn’t respond. The silence only made Jason’s thoughts race.

“They knew about your trackers. Like, almost  _ all _ of them. Knew how to throw us off their scent.”

“We underestimated them,” Dick whispered. 

Jason lifted his gaze, looking over. There was a faraway look in Dick’s eyes.

“Yeah, and we let you get hurt because of it.”

Dick squeezed his eyes shut, a rough grunt sounded in his throat. “No- no, that’s not right.” Once again, the wheels turned in his head.

“Bruce was convinced they were amateurs.”

“They  _ were _ ,” Dick huffed. He looked over at Jason, the look in his eyes told him that pieces were starting to fall into place. “Jay, they- they didn’t know what the fuck they were doing.”

“Uh, I hate to be the one to point this out, but based off some of your injuries, I think they knew  _ exactly _ what they were doing.”

“No, ugh,” his face briefly contorted with pain, but he quickly recovered. “No, they had good  _ supplies, _ Jay. Don’t you get it?”

Jason let himself try to follow Dick’s train of thought. “Like, the guns?”

“Which guns?”

“They were  _ heavily _ armed when we finally tracked them down- which, uh, I guess was you?”

He smirked.

“But anyway, they were  _ shit  _ at using them, but they were well stocked.”

“Did any of you get shot?”

“What? Uh, no, we were all fine,” Jason didn’t sound confident. In the chaos of getting Dick out safely and then making sure Penguin’s men didn’t see him, he hadn’t even thought to ask if the others had gotten hurt. He didn’t recall anyone else needing medical attention, but they were all at least a little self sufficient.

“What if someone was supplying them?”

Dick’s question took him out of his head. “Like, sponsoring a shit gang? Why?”

He shrugged, scrunching his face. 

They sat in silence for a bit until Dick said, “I bet we can find out.”

“Hey, whoa whoa whoa,” Jason placed his hand above his brother’s chest to stop him as he started to sit up. “ _ You’re _ not going anywhere.”

He sighed. “Jay, I can fucking walk,” he pushed the hand away. 

“Uh yeah, to the  _ bathroom _ fifteen feet away. And not without shooting pain. Definitely not  _ in uniform _ , punching bad guys for answers.”

“Who said anything about punching bad guys?” Dick huffed, crossing his arms. He gently placed his broken hand over his bicep.

It was Jason’s turn to be confused. “Excuse me?”

Dick wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Listen, Jay. That gang? They…” he trailed off, memories making his muscles tense. He took a deep breath. “For the most part, they  _ weren’t _ very good at torturing. Honestly, I’ve probably gotten more shit from Ivy or Riddler,” he scoffed, trying to diffuse his own tension. “But that didn’t stop them from having tools and rigs and  _ fun _ ,” he spat out the word.

“Dick,” Jason leaned forward, resting his hand on his shoulder. “If you want to talk about what they did, I’ll listen.”

He shrugged, waving his hand. “It doesn’t matter,” he mumbled. “What matters is how they were able to fool all of us, and why they decided to target us in the first place.”

“And how they knew about all your trackers,” Jason added. 

Dick nodded. 

“Well, I’ll go out.” He stood up. “I’ll get answers-”

“Wait,” Dick grabbed his wrist, grip tightening as pain settled in. “I’m not gonna send you out to bash heads in.”

Jason scoffed, smiling. “What makes this time any different than any other time?”

Dick worried his lip for a moment before continuing. “Not when I know someone else who can give you answers.”

“Excuse me?”

“Will you  _ stop _ saying it like that?”

“Okay, well who the  _ fuck _ do  _ you _ just have waltzing about who can give us information on shitty gangs? Last I checked, I was the one with those kind of connections.”

Dick didn’t look at him. “You’re not going to like it.”

He groaned. “Just, ugh, tell me what I need to do.”

Giving his brother a quick side eye, Dick tried to straighten his back, then reached for his phone, sending Jason a quick text with an address. “Listen, just tell him that I sent you and  _ then _ ask your questions, okay?”

“Dick,  _ who _ am I meeting?”

“Deathstroke.”


	14. Chapter 14

DAMIAN

While making his way down the stairs in the Bat Cave, Damian finished the sandwich Alfred had made him. His father had passed him on his way down, but besides an acknowledging nod, they hadn’t addressed each other. 

His father never smiled, and he hadn’t when he went around him, but he also hadn’t been scowling. Damian could admit the tension that usually existed in the manor had seemed to dissipate ever so slightly since they’d found Dick. 

It was strange--unfamiliar--but Damian didn’t mind. It was almost nice to not be bombarded with bothersome questions from his brothers daily and given the chance to walk around knowing exactly where everyone would be. 

He thought that’s what Alfred must feel like. Not the part about the questions--Alfred was  _ constantly _ answering questions, but he always had the answers--the “knowing where everyone was” part. 

He felt certain that Jason was with Dick in the medbay, which was most likely where Bruce had just left from. What he wasn’t certain about was why Jason very abruptly shoved the medbay door open, muttering to himself, stripping off his sweater and grabbing his Red Hood shirt and jacket off the chair he’d carelessly tossed them on the previous night.

Damian couldn’t quite make out what he was saying when the helmet was pulled over his head, but he’d definitely made a comment about “bad company”. Given that his older brother didn’t even look up at him before jumping on his motorcycle and peeling out, Damian figured he would have to find out on his own what Jason was up to--though he  _ knew _ it couldn’t be good.

He decided that if Dick were awake, he’d ask if their brother had said something. It was  _ definitely _ nice to have normal conversations with Dick, and he seemed to appreciate it as much as Damian did. 

He was looking forward to complaining about Jason to him, but when he opened the door, he found his other brother had finally returned home.

Almost simultaneously, Tim turned around and Dick looked up to see their youngest brother pause with one foot in the room. Tim blinked once, then turned back around, head dropping like he was ashamed. Dick relaxed, his signature “welcome” smile plastered on his face, though he could still see the pain in his eyes.

Damian straightened his back, pushed his shoulders back, and tilted up his chin--an unconscious posture change when he was with his older brothers, as if trying to make himself seem less small. It never changed how Dick looked at him, but it always worked on Tim, who looked away as he walked by, sitting in the chair on the right.

“Why was Todd furiously mumbling to himself this time?” he asked, plopping down into the seat. 

Dick rolled his eyes. “He can’t do one little favor for me without complaining, can he?”

Tim looked back up, squinting at him. “What favor?”

Flipping his hand as if to wave off the question, Dick shook his head. “Doesn’t matter what it is, he’s always gotta bitch about it.”

“Dick, you know that’s not what I meant-”

“Why don’t you quit bothering him?” Damian scoffed.

If looks could kill, the cold glare Tim gave him would have seriously maimed Damian. But looks couldn’t kill, so he crossed his arms and sat back in the seat.

“Don’t you have homework or something to be working on?”

“Why? Because I’m not a drop out? Some of us don’t  _ run _ from our problems, Drake.”

“Why don’t you fuck off-”

“Hey! Knock it out-  _ fuck- _ ” Dick inhaled sharply and winced as he leaned forward to place his hand in front of Tim’s chest. 

It wasn’t often that Tim got visibly mad--though it  _ was _ usually because of Damian--but the instant Dick squeezed his eyes shut from the pain, he instantaneously fell back, gently taking Dick’s hand in his and guiding him back to the pillow.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly to their older brother.

He shot a dirty look at Damian, but it was Dick’s stern gaze tinted with a grimace that made him relent.

“I’m sorry, too,” he mumbled, not looking Tim in the eye. “That was…” he glanced at him but went to staring at his own feet. “That was mean, especially after what you did.” 

If Damian had been looking at Tim, he would have seen his eyes go wide, but since he didn’t, he went on.

“There’s no way I would have even momentarily given myself up to that thrift store Joker wannabe.” 

“ _ Excuse me? _ ” Dick actually hissed.

Damian quickly looked up to see the horror on Tim’s face and the anger on Dick’s.

“Oh, you really  _ do _ hate me,” Tim said under his breath.

“You did  _ what _ ?”

“You didn’t tell him yet?” Damian raised an eyebrow. 

Tim’s eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his head as he tilted his head as if to say “No shit!”

He felt a little bad for that one--especially seeing Dick look like he was going to start raging.

“Well, it seemed like something important he would already know!”

“You’re really trying to ruin my goddamn life, aren’t you?”

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa!” Dick’s hands were clenched into fists at his sides. He looked pointedly at Tim. “You want to tell me what the fuck he’s talking about?”

Damian knew he’d made this worse. Dick always tried hard to not curse in front of him, and Tim hardly cursed at all. 

Tim took a deep breath, avoiding both of their looks.

“Well, there wasn’t any other way to save you,” he mumbled.

Dick huffed, forcing himself to remain calm, though it was easy to see his anger--along with some fear--starting to rise. “So you did  _ what _ exactly?”

Tim looked between the two, biting his lower lip and bouncing his leg. He finally settled on looking Dick in the eyes and pushing down on his knee. “What needed to be done.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Sighing like he was annoyed, he fell against the back of the seat roughly. “Okay so the creep was saying some stuff about me that was mostly insinuations, but it wasn’t hard to make conclusions! And it wasn’t like he was just going to  _ stop _ pointing a gun at you to keep us at bay, so…” he tilted his head from side to side and half heartedly shrugged. “I gave him what he wanted.”

“Jesus  _ fuck _ ,” Dick made a choking sound. Damian looked over at him, seeing tears starting to well up in his eyes. “ _ Fuck _ , I was-” he closed his eyes, looking away.

“Dick, I’m okay, I promise-”

“Did he  _ touch _ you?”

Tim shook his head. “No, at least, not, like, besides pulling me in front of him,” he answered softly. “I knew Jay would take care of it once he was away from you.”

Dick took a long, deep breath, trying to keep himself composed. After a couple minutes of tense silence, he whispered, “Why?”

“He had to,” Damian responded, making both brothers look at him. “He was the only one who could distract the creep.”

“Gees,” Dick sighed, starting to look sick.

“Drake saved your life.” Damian didn’t look at Tim, but he could guess there was a shocked look on his face. “And kept me safe in the process.”

None of them said anything for a moment, keeping their gazes off each other. Dick was still taking deep breaths, focused on staying calm and not either crying or punching something.

“I’d do it again,” Tim finally broke the silence. “If it meant saving any of your lives, I’d give myself up again.”

Dick scoffed, and Damian bit back a sarcastic laugh. 

“Okay, well, please  _ don’t _ ever do that again, okay?” Dick reached for Tim’s hand. 

Tim gave him a soft smile and briefly flashed it at Damian before nodding in agreement.

The two of them stayed with Dick until he’d calmed down enough to fall back asleep.

DICK

A dark room, a swinging light, voices mocking, counting, laughing. Dick couldn’t tell where they were coming from--couldn’t anticipate where the next attack would come from. He turned in circles, so caught up in trying to locate the source of the voices, he didn’t notice the whip cracking down from the darkness, connecting with his back.

He could feel the leather ripping his skin apart, bringing him to his knees, but just as he collapsed to the cold concrete, the floor broke underneath him. Free-falling through darkness, Dick desperately tried to grab onto something, but any time he touched the edges of the shadows, sharp pain jolted through him.

After so long of falling, of the pain, Dick had to wonder if trying to find a way out was worth it. The pain was becoming too much. 

_ Wouldn’t it just be better to stop trying? Just let the darkness take you… _

Dick quickly opened his eyes, his body aching and in a cold sweat. 

He wasn’t sure what time it was, but the medbay lights were off, everything softly illuminated by the screens of monitors and a digital clock.

His heart was racing, but quietly assessed his surroundings anyways. It was just past five in the morning: Alfred would be starting breakfast soon, Bruce would already be awake if he’d slept at all.

To Dick’s right, Damian was curled up in the chair he’d claimed as his own since they’d rescued him. Even in his sleep, he looked pissed off. Dick usually thought the sight was hilarious. He’d tuck his knees to his chest, fold his hands under his cheek, and have a scowl etched onto his face--he looked like an annoyed cat.

On his left, Tim was also asleep in a chair, though he had managed to slide one of his legs through the open armrest of the chair, crossing the other leg over the top of the same armrest. He hugged the back of the seat, twisting his body so that his head rested on his folded arms. It didn’t look comfortable at all, but he’d seen Tim sleep in weirder places around the manor and Cave.

Dick took a deep breath, making sure to keep his heart rate down. He was grateful his brothers had decided to make camp in the medbay with him--he wouldn’t have asked it of them, but knowing they were safe and nearby helped keep him grounded.

Though he refused to keep taking painkillers, Dick was still in immense pain. He wasn’t going to say anything to his family, but every little movement hurt. He appreciated that they all wanted to make sure he was okay, but knowing his two younger brothers wouldn’t wake, he let a low groan out. 

He knew hiding the pain wouldn’t make them less worried--he probably still had a good week before they even left him by himself for long periods of time--but he also knew they looked up to him, so he felt like he needed to be strong and not show them how bad he really was.

His eyes started to get heavy, but just as he was about to give in and let himself sleep some more, Dick heard the outer door to the Bat Cave open. At first he thought it was Bruce--maybe he’d stayed out patrolling all night.

His guess quickly changed when he heard a crash near the desk, which made the other two wake up with a jump. 

Damian growled at the noise, but got to his feet, instinctively reaching for the Birdarang he’d sat on the side table behind the monitors.

Tim looked confused momentarily, like he didn’t know where he was, but after his eyes quickly darted around the room, he scrunched up his nose and settled back into the chair.

Jason turned on the lights as he marched into the medbay, making Tim squint his eyes and curse under his breath. 

Still in his Red Hood gear, besides his helmet which Dick assumed he’d thrown at something given the crashing sound he’d heard, he huffed as he stopped at the end of the bed, arms crossed. Right around his eye was scratched up and starting to bruise.

“What happened to you, Todd?” Damian asked, rubbing his eye with the back of his hand that held the Birdarang.

“And why couldn’t it have kept you for another hour?” Tim grumbled, already covering his face from the light.

Jason didn’t stop glaring, but he looked more annoyed than pained. “This is the  _ last  _ time I meet with one of  _ your _ contacts, Dickface.” His voice was gruff, but he finally relaxed and turned around to grab the last chair from the edge of the room and pulled it over beside Tim.

He sat down so hard, Tim flinched awake again.

“What?” Damian sat back down but kept his arms crossed over his chest, clearly upset about being kept out of the loop.

Jason leaned back in his chair--the top of the seat barely meeting his shoulder blades. He huffed again, letting his limbs stretch out before speaking.

“You know, maybe I just need a moment to process. Ever think of that, gremlin?”

Damian snarled, sinking further into his seat.

“Don’t be a shit,” Tim smacked Jason’s arm, causing him to hiss and flinch away.

“Jesus, Tim, I got fucking smashed against a wall on that arm,  _ fuck _ ,” he cradled his arm, trying to keep his expression neutral. He reached over with his other hand and flicked Tim’s ear.

“Are you done?” Dick finally spoke.

All three of them looked at him.

Jason sat up in his chair. “Seriously, I’m  _ never _ meeting up with that mother fucker for you again.”

“Do you mind enlightening us to  _ which _ mother fucker you are referring?” Damian also sat forward.

“Watch your fucking language, demon,” Jason retorted.

“Deathstroke,” Dick answered, speaking over him.

“Excuse me?” Tim was fully awake now, quickly unwrapping himself from the chair to sit on the edge.

“I’m not happy about it-”

“Oh  _ you’re _ not happy about it?” Jason scoffed. “Asshole punched me in the face, and that was  _ after _ I told him you sent me.”

Dick shrugged, looking away. “And did you get pushed into the wall before or after you told him?”

Jason stuck his tongue out. “Oh, whatever. I don’t owe him anything.  _ You _ do.”

Rolling his eyes, Dick sighed. “Yeah well, I’ll deal with that later.”

“Are you going to tell us  _ why _ you went to meet up with Slade Wilson?” Tim cut in.

“Yeah, and why he’s one of  _ your _ contacts?” Damian added, eyeing Dick.

The two older boys shared a look, then Jason released some of the tension in his posture, leaning his elbows onto his knees.

“I asked Jason to find out if someone was sponsoring the gang.”

“So you sent him to talk to  _ Deathstroke _ ?” Tim looked like they were crazy.

“He knows things,” Dick offered half heartedly. “And the gang they…” he paused, trying to keep himself focused. He cleared his throat. “They knew too much about us-”

“They knew too much about  _ you _ ,” Jason cut him off.

Dick raised an eyebrow.

Watching him bite on his lip for a moment, Dick could tell Jason was trying to decide if he should say what he’d found out in front of Tim and Damian. He must have figured they would eventually find out because he continued.

“I mean, yeah, they also got info on how to fuck with us, but…” he looked down at his hands as he started to twiddle his thumbs. He looked back up at his brother. “They were out for  _ you _ , Dick.  _ You’ve _ got a price on your head. Slade wouldn’t say who--I don’t even know if  _ he  _ knew--but he didn’t seem fond of the idea.”

He could feel himself sinking into the bed. Of course. The gang hadn’t been putting much effort into finding the others. They weren’t ever really in danger.  _ He _ put them in danger.

“Hey,” Jason tapped his wrist. “Stop that.”

Dick glanced at him, then glanced at Tim who had leaned in closer and gently set his hand near Dick’s. He lifted his fingers so that the younger boy could slide his hand underneath. Damian had gotten up again and stood right next to him. 

They were safe.

“D, you  _ really _ pissed someone off,” Jason joked. “But we’re gonna keep you safe, and we’re going to figure it out,” he rolled his eyes, already regretting his decision to be sappy. “We’re gonna do it together.”

“Disgusting, Todd,” Damian scoffed, but took Dick’s other hand in his.

They all went quiet, sharing a moment where they  _ knew _ they were better together, but none of them would say that outloud.

Quiet moments with his brothers were few and far between, but they were hardly the worst moments between them. Dick was fine with the content silence for now--there’d be far less of it when they got to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally finished it! You guys don't know how much it means to me to not only write a complete fic, but also for it to get so much traffic? This has the most hits/kudos out of anything I've posted and it feels like such a warm welcome back into writing. I haven't completed a piece in years (barely writing at all tbh), and to have this that started out as a self-indulgent one-shot that turned into a 14 chapter fic is so exciting.
> 
> I hope to write more soon!
> 
> Let me know what you think! I left it to kind of have a cliff hanger, but idk if I'll write a sequel. Thank you so much for reading/commenting/liking/subscribing! xoGhoul


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